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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



APR Q loo/? 



BETWEENfTHE«TIDES: 



-COMPRISING 



SKETCHES, TALES IND POEMS, 



INCLUDING- 



H-U-N-G-R-Y LrR-N-B, 



W. s. WALKER. 




, KP *- 3 1886 Aj 



LOS GATOS, CALIFORNIA, 

W. S. and Glenn Walker, Printers. 

1885. 



THE LIBRARY i 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 






Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1885, 
By W. S. WALKER, 
the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
(All Rights Reserved). 



Los Gatos, Cal., 
W. S. and Glenn Walkek, Printers. 



H. A . Swaney, Photographer, Los Gatos, Cal. 



Palmer & Rey, Engravers, 
San Francisco. 



Bolton & Muirson, Binders, 
San Jose. 



To my Family, who have been my compan- 
ions in travel, who have shared my joys and sor- 
rows, this Book is respectfully dedicated by 

THE AUTHOR. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



TABLE OF DISTANCES FROM SAN FRANCISCO 

TO SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL POINTS IN CALIFORNIA. 

For the following valuable table of reference, we are indebted to 
H. S. CROCKER & Co., of San Francisco, Publishers of the Rail- 
road Gazetteer, and it can be relied upon as correct. 

ALAMEDA, Alameda county 11 miles. 

AMADOR CITY, Amador county 154 miles. 

AUBURN, Placer county 126 miles. 

BIG TREES, Calaveras county 169 miles. 

BIG TREES, Santa Cruz county 75 miles. 

BIG TREES, Mariposa county 250 miles. 

CAMP CAPITOLA, Santa Cruz county ,85 miles. 

CLOVERDALE, Sonoma county 84}^ miles. 

DONNER LAKE, Nevada county 197 miles. 

EUREKA, Humboldt county 216 miles. 

GEYSER SPRINGS, Sonoma county 100 miles. 

HEALDSBURG, Sonoma county 66}£ miles. 

HOTEL DE REDWOOD, Santa Cruz county 66 miles. 

HOTEL DEL MONTE, Monterey county 125 miles. 

HUMBOLDT BAY, Humboldt county 216 miles. 

LOS ANGELES, Los Angeles county 482 miles. 

LAKEPORT, Lake county 119 miles. 

MARTINEZ, Contra Costa county 36 miles. 

MARYSVILLE, Yuba county 142 miles. 

MONTEREY, Monterey county 125 miles. 

NAPA, Napa county 46 miles. 

OAKLAND, Alameda county. 6 miles. 

PETALUMA, Sonoma county 36 miles. 

PLACERVILLE, Eldorado county 148 miles. 

RED BLUFF, Tehama county 200 miles. 

SACRAMENTO, Sacramento county 90 miles. 

SAN DIEGO, San Diego county 661 miles. 

SAN JOSE, Santa Clara county 47 miles. 

SANTA BARBARA, Santa Barbara county 288 miles. 

SANTA CRUZ, Santa Cruz county 81 miles. 

SANTA ROSA, Sonoma county 52 miles. 

STOCKTON, San Joaquin county , 93 miles. 

TAHOE CITY (Lake Tahoe), Placer county 224 miles. 

YOSEMITE, Mariposa county 285 miles. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

INTRODUCTORY 5 

HUNGRY LAND 10 

FROM ILLINOIS TO NEW YORK 12 

FROM NEW YORK TO ASPINWALL 19 

LIFE IN CALIFORNIA .• 29 

FOOD FOR REFLECTION 36 

THE STORY OF A MILLION ... 37 

PILGRIMS ON THE TRAMP 47 

TO MY OLD ARMY COMRADES 70 

YUBA RIVER ONCE MORE 73 

OUR REDWOOD CABIN 91 

RUSSIAN RIVER VALLEY, AND THE 

BIG CAMP MEETING 93 

LINES TO OLIVER WESCOTT 101 

ADIEU TO CALIFORNIA 103 

WE "AB 4 0UT FACE" 105 

MY FIRST NEW YEAR'S GREETING 112 

BACK TO CALIFORNIA 115 

RETROSPECTION 125 

FROM CALIFORNIA TO MISSOURI 126 

THE MARCH OF TIME 144 

THE AUTHORS OPINION 146 

SITTING BULL ON THE SITUATION 163 

CALIFORNIA AND THE EAST 165 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF SHILOH 167 

MY OLD CANOE 175 

CAPITAL VERSUS LABOR 177 

OUT IN THE DARK 179 

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT RAISING HOGS 181 

TAXATION AND CONVICT LABOR 184 

MY OLD E FLAT 187 

DEATH OF MRS. JOHN BROWN 189 

LINES TO "TOM BROWN" 192 

CHRISTMAS CHIMES 194 

MY FAVORITE SALUTATORY 196 

RUNNING A NEUTRAL PAPER 198 

MEMORIAL ADDRESS 201 

MY FOREIGN POLICY 203 

WEEK DAY SERMON 205 

ARMY REMINISCENCE 209 

CENTENNIAL GREETING 214 

FOURTH OF JULY IN AMERICA 217 

A CHAPTER ON MOVING 219 

CONCLUSION 241 



INTRODUCTORY. 

In presenting this work to the public, I do not 
promise, nor do I expect to produce anything of 
an unusually brilliant nature, and will endeavor 
to confine myself to language with which I am 
most familiar — plain household words; and if my 
efforts are crowned with any good results, it will 
be gratifying to the author. In short, if I cause 
a moment of serious reflection to the general read- 
er, or create a good hearty laugh (even though it 
be at my misfortune), or persuade people (no 
matter where they live) to court contentment and 
let well enough alone — then, kind reader, let me 
say that I have not lived entirely in vain. And 
also, if I can succeed in disposing of this entire 
edition for about one hundred per cent above its 
actual cost, and two hundred per cent above its 
actual worth, leaving the undersigned just about 
three hundred per cent net profit, then my mis- 
sion as a Book 'writist' will be accomplished. 



6 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

In 1880, while at Cloverdale, Cal, I published 
a small pamphlet, entitled "Glimpses of Hungry 
Land," and as the little book met with consider- 
able favor from the public; and upon the urgent 
solicitation of many friends, and also owing to 
having the little work copyrighted, I have con- 
cluded to include it in this my latest venture, 
and therefore offer the following explanation: 

Hungry -land may be considered a peculiar and 
homely word when used in connection with the 
title of a book — perhaps it is; yet in this instance, 
Hungry-land figures as the home of the roving, 
discontented, dissatisfied and restless class of in- 
dividuals to be found in every portion of the civ- 
ilized world. Those individuals who are never 
contented, but alway restless, continually 'pull- 
ing up stakes' and moving around in search of 
something better, are always hungry. Their bod- 
ies, hearts, minds and pockets are hungry — in a 
word, they spend their lives in what to them is a 
hungry land ; and as I belong to that unfortunate 
class, I can truly say that I write from experi- 
ence; for I have been one of the many individu- 
als who are loth to remain long enough in any 
one place to properly enjoy the blessings of 
this world. 

This life is largely made up of Memory and 
Hope — both are dreams. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



To a great extent we are creatures of circum- 
stances, and as liable to change as the ever vary- 
ing climate of our country. While standing, as 
it were, knee-deep amid the clover-fields of the 
present, how often we look forward to the gilded 
visions of the future, and quicken our steps and 
often go beyond our depth in the hurried effort to 
grasp the prize. 

Then again, in fancy, how often we retrace our 
steps and bask in the sunny haunts of our youth 
and sigh for the return of those halcyon days; or 
perhaps we go still farther back, groping our way 
over the beaten track of ages, and mourn that 
we lived not in earlier times, mid scenes that 
have long been festooned with the dust of dead 
centuries. Truly, how few of us really live in the 
only period we can call our own — the Present! 

Imagination lends a charm to distance, and 
far-off objects often lose their brightness upon a 
near approach. We talk of days gone by when 
we were so happy and contented, when in reality 
were we to consult our old journals of every day 
life, we would discover the fact that we were just 
as miserable then as now. In those bewitching 
hours of the past that we so love to refer to, we 
were doubtless looking back or forward just the 
same as we are to-day. I claim as a general rule, 
that people blessed with the light of civilization 
enjoy very little true happiness on this earth. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



We see individuals every day, who, to all exter- 
nal appearances should be happy — people who 
live in ease and luxury, at whose door want, that 
cruel master never knocks ; along whose pathway 
the cares and shadows of the world seldom or 
never come; yet even thej go around with long 
faces, bemoaning their fate, murmuring, fret- 
ting, and declaring that everything is going 
wrong. Verily, "such is Life." 

There was a time, yet fresh in my in e m o r y 
when the Far West looked to me most beautiful 
as I stood on the fertile prairies of Illinois, sur- 
rounded with everything to render me happy — 
at home, in a State, of whose vast resources a 
World might well be proud ; yet I grew discon- 
tented, and consequently unhappy. Of course I 
was miserable. Everything seemed too common- 
place. Life was monotonous. The old home cir- 
cle lost its charms. From the friendly voices, 
whose genial influence had surrounded me from 
the sunny days of childhood to manhood's years, 
I turned away with impatient feelings. The cli- 
mate of old Illinois seemed too close and oppres- 
sive for me. I wanted fresh air; and I thought I 
could find it "out West." 

In the distance, with imagination's big teles- 
cope to aid me, I beheld the Golden Land, cloth- 
ed in robes of matchless beauty; her hills cover- 
ed with verdure — the whole land be-decked with 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 







flowers of gorgeous hue ; with gold-lined ravines 
and silver-spangled ledges, whose ocean-washed 
and shell-strewn shore glistened and sparkled in 
the mellow sun-light of perpetual summer. Ev- 
ery vale seemed an elysian; every mountain, dell, 
nook and valley, the abode of true, romantic and 
unalloyed happiness. 

Thus I gazed upon the Far West — the fair} 7 
isle of my imagination. W. S. W. 





HUNGRY LAND. 

By the Rivers and the Oceans, 

By the Mountains and the Lakes ; 
Mid the regions of the North-land, 

And the tangled Southern " brakes;" 
From America's fertile borders, 

To her central belts of sand — 
I have sought "a better country," 

But found instead — the Hungry Land. 

On the broad high- ways of travel, 

In the workshops, fields and mines ; 
In the cities, towns and hamlets, 

Where the sun of freedom shines : 
I have found a band of brothers, — 

A discontented, roving band ; 
They are "men without a country," 

For they live in Hungry Land. 

They who pass their time in seeking 

For a road without a hill, 
Have within their souls an empty space, 

Tli is world can never fill ; 
For, no matter where we go, 

We find them hand in hand : — 
The discontented and the roving — 

Dwellers in the Hungry Land. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



11 



For, no matter where your home is : 

On the land or on the sea ; 
A toiler in a monarch's realm, 

Or with the noble free — 
Whether in a peasant's cottage, 

Or with wealth at your command, 
If contentment dwells not in you, 

You live in Hungry Land. 

But there is a "Better Country, 

In a clime beyond the Sun, 
Where earth's trampers may find shelter 

When the toils of life are done ; 
'Where their feet will never weary, 

As they tread the golden sand : 
It's the country "over yonder," 

Beyond the Hungry Land. 




FROM ILLINOIS TO NEW YORK. 

My mind was made up. I had fully determin- 
ed to "go West." My valise was packed; and the 
time for my departure drew near. 

On the morning of April 7th, 1864, a crowd of 
cherished relatives and kind friends assemhled 
at my old home in Mason City, Illinois, bid me 
"Good-by and Farewell," and a few moments la- 
ter I was "off for California." Since that time, 
more than twenty years have passed away, but 
the recollections of that soft Spring morning, the 
last good-by and hand-shake with loved friends, 
many of whom have long since been laid away 
beneath the sod — the long lingering look, as 
through blinding tears, I caught the last glimpse 
of my old home and the loved group, ere all 
faded from my sight, and — the great wide world 
was before me — still linger fresh in my memory. 

The first day I went as far as Peoria, distant 
40 miles, which for lack of railroad, I made the 
journey on a neighbor's wagon. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 13 



At Peoria I purchased a ticket for New York. 
I wished to go over the Michigan Central Rail- 
road via. Suspension Bridge, and in asking for a 
ticket I committed an innocent blunder by call- 
ing for one to New York via. Extension Bridge! 

The agent, fortunately happened to be out of 
the extended kind, but promptty furnished me 
with the proper pasteboard. The next morning 
I arrived in Chicago, but the train stopped here 
only long enough to admit of a hurried break- 
fast, and we were off again; and all that day, as 
we hurried along, I sat at a car window, gazing 
at the fertile fields, bustling towns and grand 
old forests that form the characteristic features 
of Michigan, until the shades of evening found 
us at the beautiful city of Detroit. Here we went 
on board a splendid ferry-boat, and were invited 
to 'sit right down to supper.' We were told by a, 
pompous individual that it would be "policy to 
sit right down," as we would "have to pay coin 
for hash over in Canada." The majority of the 
passengers (including the author) paid our little 
fifty cent green-back and then we "sat right 
down," and just about the time we got ready to, 
call for coffee the boat reached the Canada shore 
and an old sinner yelled in fiendish tones: "All 
aboard for Niagara." Of course we scrambled off 
the boat and hurried to the train, leaving the 
little supper farce on the boat to-be played over 



14 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

again on the next load of passengers; and judge 
of our surprise when at the next station the gong- 
sounded and as fine a looking man as I ever set 
eyes on sang out: "Twenty minutes for supper — 
and Greenbacks taken at par." In order to sat-- 
isfy the cravings of my "Department of the In- 
terior/' I squandered another fifty-cent piece. 
All that night we rolled through Canada, but 
owing to the darkness and the lacerated state of 
my feelings over the Detroit ferry-boat supper, 
I was unable to form an intelligent opinion of 
the country, — however, "You can see it on the 
map." 

While stopping for a few minutes at a station 
(just before daylight), we caught the sound of a 
dull, heavy roar in the distance, and a moment's 
reflection told us that we were nearing Niagara ! 
And, as the first streaks of sun-light gilded the 
Eastern horizon, the train slowed up at the end 
of Suspension Bridge on the Canada side, and 
we were in plain view and hearing of the great 
Cataract ! I will not attempt to describe the mag- 
aificent grandeur of the scene, for a host of wri- 
ters, in comparison to whom, in regard to des- 
criptive talent,. I am as a fire-fly to a sheet of 
lightning, have fallen far short of the reality 
■It will suffice to say: The World has thousands 
of Water-falls, many Cascades, and a few Cata- 
racts— but the World has but one NIAGARA! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 15 

At this great watering place I tarried for an 
entire day, vainly trying to drink in the wonder- 
ful beauty of the scene; but the longer I remain- 
ed and the more I looked, the more I realized 
my inability to grasp the full measure of its fas- 
cinating power. In all my wanderings nothing 
has impressed me so forcibly or filled my mind 
with a sense of its awe-inspiring sublimity as did 
the great Falls of Niagara. 

Leaving the Falls a little before dark, we were 
soon traversing the great state of New York, and 
in the morning arrived at Albany, where after a 
short stop for breakfast, we were once more on 
our way, winding along the storied shores of the 
noble Hudson river. It was Sunday, and al- 
though the day was stormy, raining and snowing 
alternately, the journey was highly enjoyed, the 
picturesque scenery adorning the banks of this 
magnificent river, forming a continuous panor- 
ama of rare beauty, unrivaled on this continent. 
Although West Point lay upon the opposite side 
of the river, we got a pretty good view of the fa- 
mous old town, so memorably associated with the 
early history of our country. 

It will here be in order to state, that between 
Peoria and New York, I fell in with seven men 
who were enroute for California. Some were go- 
ing for health, some for wealth and some for cli- 
mate — all hoping and expecting to better their 



16 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

condition. For convenience sake, I will name 
them Jones, Brown, Jenkins and Ridley, of Ill- 
inois; Tripp and German, of Canada, and Olsen, 
a Norwegian sailor. We were a party of eight in- 
dividuals whose generel ideas seemed to run in 
the same direction. While on the cars we had 
formed a general acquaintance, and solemnly de- 
clared that come what would in the future, we 
would travel together, put up at the same hotel, 
work together, divide our- wages equally, marry 
the same woman, and if necessary — die together! 
Of course we all stuck to the agreement, (but it 
is quite probable that we did nothing of the kind). 

About four o'clock on the evening of the 11th, 
we reached New York City, which, by the way, 
I found to be a little the biggest institution in the 
shape of a town that 1 had ever been in, to the 
best of my recollection. - 

As might have been expected, the vast crowd 
at the depot seemed very glad and also greatly 
surprized to see us — especially on Sunday (and 
it a raining, too). It did seem as if all creation 
wanted us to stay all night with them; but as 
there were not enough of us to go around, and 
give every "runner" a show, we declined many 
pressing invitations; and finally, by what now 
seems to me a miraculous streak of luck, we stum- 
bled into French's Hotel. (I will here say that 
at that time, Mr. French appeared to be as fine 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 17 

a man as one might 'jump up' in any country— 
and evidently knew how to keep hotel). 

On the morning after our arrival in the City, 
while standing on the steps in front of the hotel, 
Jenkins, (of Illinois) loaned a mild-eyed stranger 
one hundred dollars "just for an hour or so — un- 
til the hank opened." Brother Jenkins and the 
man with the mild eye never met again in this 
cold world. 

An hour or so after this sad occurrence, fearing 
lest other similar calamities might hefall more or 
less of our number, we concluded that it would 
be policy to go at once and secure our tickets; for 
business is business, you know; in fact, business 
is one thing and loaning money to a stranger on 
a short acquaintance is another thing. 

Repairing to the office of the California Mail 
Steamship Line, we found the berths all taken, 
so we then concluded to wait for a ship of "Rob- 
erts' Opposition Line," which was advertised to 
leave on the 23rd, and as we were compelled to 
remain so long in the great metropolis, in order 
to economize, we purchased tickets for the 'Steer- 
age' (for particulars see Webster's unabridged). 
During our sojourn in New York, we endeavor- 
ed to "take in" every place of interest; and it is 
needless to add that in nine cases out of ten, it 
was that crowd of eight inquiring souls that were 
taken in. We traversed Broadway from one end 



18 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



to the other, also a great many other ways not 
quite so broad. We visited Brooklyn, Jersey Ci- 
ty, Hobokin, Blackwell's Island, the Navy Yard, 
Central Park, Barnmn's Museum, and many oth- 
er points of interest; and finally, when the morn- 
ing of the 23rd came around, Ave settled our ho- 
tel "williams," shouldered our "traps" and went 
on board the old Steam-ship, "Illinois" — bound 
for Aspinwall. 

"Our Ship is ready, and the wind is fair — 
I'm bound for the sea, Mary Ann." 




FROM NEW YORK TO ASPINWALL. 



At noon the ship's cannon was fired, and a few 
minutes later the great paddles began to revolve 
and we were drifting from the shores of America. 

There were nearly fifteen hundred passengers 
on board, about six hundred Irish and the bal- 
ance from almost every other portion of the civ- 
ilized world. Every available part of the ship 
was crowded with humanity, clothed in almost 
every imaginable garb. 

Now, reader, come and cross the big water 
with me. Let us sit down in the fore-castle and 
journalize a little as we steam for the Isthmus, 

The waters widen around our ship ! 

"Adieu, adieu, my native shore 
Fades over the waters blue." 



The loved land of our nativity grows dim in 
the distance — the shore is out of sight! The ship 
goes bounding up and down in a manner not en- 
tirely satisfactory to "yours truly." (I wonder if 
this vessel was duly inspected before she left the 
harbor). The loud roar and crash of the huge 
waves as they strike the sides of the ship makes 
me feel like abandoning all my sinful habits. 



20 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

April 25. A heavy sea; the waves are rolling 
clear over the decks, yet I am not frightened, but 
nearly scared to death. The vessel groans as if 
she would come to pieces; and if she does I hope 
she will come to some good firm pieces of land, 
for I feel just now like going into the real estate 
business. (An hour later, I changed my mind 
and concluded to 'cast my bread upon the waters') 

April 26. Ifleverdo reach California, my 
travels on the ocean will be ended. 

April 27. Nearly all our "mess" are sick — 
awful sick. Dinner is under way. It commences 
at noon and lasts until 4 p. m., then supper be- 
gins, and that never ends — that is, hardly ever;, 
at least, that is what a woman passenger said, and 
I will not dispute with a woman. Ancient histo- 
ry intimates that I used to do the like when I 
was a youth; but hazel switches, promptly ad- 
ministered, taught me lessons, wise, likewise and 
otherwise. (I am no youth at this writing). 

April 30. In sight of the island of Cuba. It 
looks like a gray cloud, stretching along the hor- 
iz >n, but upon a nearer approach it presents bold 
shores, the face of the country appearing rather 
mountainous, and is interspersed with hills and 
valleys dotted with beautiful groves. It was here 
that Dr. Kane breathed out the last hours of a 
useful life. After -his near association with the 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 21 

grim monster during two dark winters amid the 
ice-fields of the Polar regions, it is cheering to 
know that the brave explorer was at last permit- 
ted to lie down and sleep his last sleep in the 
"Queen of Isles/' the spot coveted by all nations 
— peerless Cuba: where the fragrance of rare spi- 
ces and bright flowers fill the air with sweet 
perfume. 

May 3. There is some prospect of reaching 
the Isthmus to-night. But little air is stirring 
and the weather is oppressively warm. Our ship 
represents a full-fledged menagerie. Human na- 
ture is here in all its varied forms, and what P. 
T. Barnum was doing when we left New York, 
is indeed a mystery. He missed an opportunity 
for securing a rare collection that may never oc- 
cur again. 

May 4. We arrived at Aspinwall last night 
about midnight, and this morning I went up on 
deck and got my first view of the "deathly Isth- 
mus." During our voyage to this place, owing to 
the crowded vessel, the passengers generally, con- 
sidered that they had been very badly treated by 
the ship's company, in regard to the scanty sup- 
ply of water, poor rations, &c. These complaints 
were especially loud in the steerage department; 
and about fifteen committees had been organi- 
zed to lay our common grievances before the 



22 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



American Consul upon our arrival at Aspinwall. 
It was understood that just as soon as the com- 
plaint was made, the Consul would immediately 
put the ship's officers in irons and give every 
passenger about ten dollars to patch up their 
outraged feelings. Day after day these special 
committees wended their way to the residence of 
the Consul, and day after clay that official put 
them off promising to attend to the matter soon 
as he could "get to it." It is needless to say that 
the dear old Consul never got there. 

The natives of both sexes come in crowds to 
the wharf with baskets of their own peculiar fash- 
ioning, laden with tempting fruit, sea shells, &c. 

The principal production of industry at this 
place, and apparently the chief article for sale at 
the mercantile establishments appears to be Ja- 
maica Hum, and I regret to say that about one- 
third of our male passengers, in their frequent 
and continued wrestling: with this powerful ad- 
versary, became what may very appropriately be 
termed "total wrecks." 

Many of the natives go around dressed decid- 
edly "seldom," and live chiefly upon the natural 
products of the country. They lead an indolent 
life, and spend much of their time laying in the 
shade, swinging in hammocks and dancing; and 
to all appearances enjoy life far better than more 
civilized races. They have nothing to worry their 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 23 

minds about, for upon every hand they see a 
bountiful harvest, spread out by the lavish hand 
of Nature. AVhat's the use of working in a land 
like this? If the climate was healthy for the 
white race it could easily be converted into an 
earthly paradise; but fierce disease and threat- 
ening death keep back the wheels of civilization. 



We boarded the train and left Aspinwall on 
the 6th. The country across the Isthmus, a dis- 
tance of forty-six miles, as I viewed it from the 
car window, seemed to be a mixture of the beau- 
tiful, wonderful, grand, gloomy and peculiar; the 
face of the country growing much higher 
as we approach Panama. We passed several vil- 
lages along the way, peopled entirely by natives. 
Their houses are built of a kind of bamboo, cane 
and palm, neatly thatched, and are all well ven- 
tilated. 

Before leaving Aspinwall, Jones and I laid in 
half a gallon of Jamaica rum to keep the mos- 
quitoes from biting us, )mosquitoes grow unusu- 



24 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ally large, and are very vicious in Central Amer- 
ica), and as snakes in this country also grow to 
an enormous size and are exceedingly venomous, 
Ridley and Brown laid in half a gallon of Jam- 
aica's "boss wrestler" to keep off the snakes. It is 
needless to add that during the remainder of the 
journey we were not molested, either by mosqui- 
toes or snakes. 

We arrived at Panama in the afternoon, and 
found the connecting steamer, "Moses Taylor," 
waiting for us; and such a time as we had get- 
ting on board simply beggars description. We 
had to go out quite a distance in small boats and 
climb up to the decks on a ladder. Every body 
wanted to go first (they were afraid of get ting- 
left, and I am sorry w T e wasn't). There was push- 
ing, jamming, crowding, swearing, and occasion- 
ally fighting; and it was all the ship's officers 
could do to keep the boats from being swamped 
by the impatient crowd. That crowd was compo- 
sed of people from nearly every civilized coun- 
try — from nearly every station in life — civilized 
people ! They knew we were all going — knew the 
ship was large enough to carry all of us, and al- 
so knew it would wait for us. It was then, and is 
yet my opinion, that rum was at the bottom of 
all this trouble. The improper use of intoxica- 
ting liquors certainly destroys all that is good 
and noble in the heart of man (or woman either), 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 25 

or any other man, or any of his relatives; but for 
all this, I suppose strong drink will be bought, 
sold and drank; and men will crowd, push, quar- 
rel and fight just as long as — as long as snakes 
and mosquitoes threaten to bite travelers. 

May 11. This morning a little before day- 
light the 'Moses Taylor' got up steam and 'stood' 
for San Francisco. The land has once more fa- 
ded from our sight, and the blue waters of the 
Pacific ocean form the horizon on every side. 
Dinner is under way, and the order of the hour 
seems to be to pitch in, shove back the women 
and children, overturn the coffee pots and curse 
the steward if he is handy. 

May 12. Last night we boys went below to 
see if we could find our bunks; after some trou- 
ble we found our sleeping apartment located be- 
tween the engine room and the butcher stalls; of 
course, we wakened up considerably — did not 
feel sleepy anyhow, so up we came and turned in 
on deck in the open air and went to sleep; but 
during the night the wind arose, the sea grew 
boisterous and we were awakened by the angry 
dashing of the waves, and soon a drenching rain 
came pouring down. The heavens were ablaze 
with lightning. It was "midnight on the ocean.' 
I yet remember, as I leaned over the railing, how 
I shrank back horrified, as I beheld the white- 
crested waves rolling up within a few feet of me, 



26 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

splashing the water in my face. The roar of the 
waters, the groaning of the vessel, the crashing 
of the thunder, and the spectral-like watch in the 
forecastle (seen by the lightning's glare), stri- 
king the hells for the midnight hour, all had an 
effect upon the author. 

May 13. One of our passengers died last night, 
— a young man who was on the road to Oregon 
with his newly married wife. It is a sad case, 
the}^ are lowering the body over the side of the 
ship, and I can hear the Chaplain reading: "I am 
the Resurrection and the Life." It seems a fear- 
ful thing to be buried at sea. 

May 18. In sight of the coast of Mexico. The 
temperature is getting cooler. This is our seventh 
day on the Pacific; and the hours drag slowly by. 

To the West, far out, blue billows roll, 

As onward swift we go, 
While to the East, in grandeur rise — 

The cliffs of Mexico. 

The mountains dark and grim loom up ; 

Even to the clouds they reach, 
While Cocoa groves in quiet, rest 

Along the sandy beach. 

Tehuantepec's broad gulf we've passed — 

The sun is sinking low, 
And in the gathering darkness, fades 

The coast of Mexico. 

May 20. This is the anniversary of my birth- 
day, but I have been too badly frightened during 
the past few days to tell exactly how old I am; 
however I am positive that I have aged consid- 



>ES. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 27 

erably since I left home. The evening is beautiful, 
and to use the words of a somewhat smarter man 
than I am: "the sun is going down in a halo of 
gloiy." (but I can't help that). 

Sun-set on the ocean! What is more glorious? 
What fills the mind with more impressive emo- 
tions? I know what fills my mind with more 
thrilling emotions than seeing the sun set on the 
ocean. It is the thought that I may not have the 
privilege of seeing it rise in the morning! 

May 23. In sight of Lower California. The 
head-lands of cape St. Lucas rise in the distance; 
saw several whales to-day. Lower California pre- 
sents a desolate appearance — barren hills and 
desolate wastes. (If "my girl" ever presents as 
desolate a waist as lower California, I shall nev- 
er attempt to surround her). 

May 25. We are nearing California ! We pass- 
ed Monterey about noon. The sailors are getting 
the cables ready and putting the ship in order. 
In the distance I can see the ever-green shores of 
the happy land. Horses, cattle and sheep are gra- 
zing on the grassy slopes, and "Hong to be there 
too." 

Our grand army of passengers all seem happy 
at the prospect of soon being on shore. The decks 
are crowded with men, women and children — en- 
ough people to fill up a small town. 




28 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Jottings by the way, on the road to California, 
will soon be laid aside. Yonder is the Golden 
Gate ! Up goes my old hat as the city heaves in 
view! The sun is setting, and we are passing in- 
to the harbor of San Francisco. 

I thank the Giver of all good that I have esca- 
ped the dangers of the deep and been permitted to 
witness the sun go down, from the shores of the 
Pacific ocean. 

To our noble Ship, "Moses Taylor," I touch my 
hat. To ocean life, a long farewell. 

California: I stand upon your golden shore. — 
Your white sands glisten beneath my feet, and 
your blue sky, studded with brilliant stars, 
spread out over my head ! 







£72^ JiV CALIFORNIA. 

HOW EIGHT PARTNERS STUCK TOGETHER. 

Before leaving the steamer, "Moses Taylor/' 
our crowd (the notorious eight) got together and 
unanimously resolved (according to our previous 
general arrangement), that we would all go to 
the same hotel — of course Ave would ; and on the 
following morning we would settle on plans for 
the future that would speedily pour shekels into 
the capacious pockets of the aforesaid eight; and 
we also remarked: "Woe unto that "runner," 
who in the blindness of his zeal, undertakes to 
separate our crowd, for the unfortunate descend- 
ant of Adam who should make such an attempt 
would indeed be fortunate if he escaped great bod- 
ily injury, for behold, we are bad medicine to in- 
dulge in." 

Reader, perhaps you are aware that it was no 
small job to go ashore from an ocean steamer, af- 
ter dark, in San Francisco twenty years ago! In 
those days, aside from Ben Holiday's Stage Line, 
the bulk of the travel from the 'States' to Call- 



30 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

fornia was on ocean steamers — by the Panama 
and Nicaragua routes; and the arrival of a steam- 
er was met by thousands of people, assembled on 
the piers; and hotel runners in the crowd were 
far more numerous than snakes and mosquitoes 
were on the Isthmus. The citizens came to look 
for relatives and friends; on the night of our ar- 
rival, it was evident that the hotel runners came 
— to look for us. (In the majority of cases I re- 
gret to say, they found us). 

In regard to going ashore, I will not lacerate 
the feelings of the reader, by entering too min- 
utely into particulars, but will venture the state- 
ment, that it took just seven hotels to accommo- 
date our crowd of eight! Jenkins and I fell into 
the clutches of a human porcupine, who repre- 
sented the old 'St. Louis' hotel, down on Pacific 
street — although we did not discover each other's 
whereabouts until we accidentally met the next 
morning in the dining room. The other six mem- 
bers of our "mess" were coaxed, pulled, jerked, 
kidnapped, and scattered promiscuously almost 
from the old "Barbary coast" to the Cliff House; 
and it took close searching, the greater portion 
of the next day to get us all together. But, alasJ 
It was then too late. The "bonds of partnership" 
had been loosened — the mischief had been done. 
Each one of our party had swallowed his little 
dose of instructions, gratuitously administered, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 31 



by the fatherly advisors, who infested the city, 
and who, I may add, can be found everywhere; 
and after this, with our crowd, calm reasoning 
found no willing ears. 

In the city we found plenty of men who "knew 
all about California and the whole Pacific coast/' 
and their experience and advice reminded me of 
streams of lava emitted from Mt. Vesuvius. 

One man said: "Go to the old mines of Cali- 
fornia, that's whar I made my 'raise' in '52. " 
(this individual at this time was lunching at a 
"free soup house" on the proceeds of his "raise." 
Another man said: "Stranger, if you want to pick 
up chunks of coarse gold like a duck picks up 
corn, you go to Arizona." "But," said one of our 
crowd, "why don't you go there ?" The reply w T as, 
"It costs one hundred dollars to go there, and I 
have only four bits to start on.") 

Another miserable specimen of American hu- 
manity advised us to go to Alaska and engage in 
the fur business; but we concluded that Alaska 
was a little too "fur" off. 

I was also advised to buy a quartz mill and go 
to Nevada and try my hand at crushing rock — 
"for," said my sage advisor, "there is millions in 
it." As this venture took nearly a million to start 
it, I concluded to let the quartz mill alone, at least 
for a week or two. 



32 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

To make a long story short, it will be sufficient 
to say, that upon the third day after our arrival 
in San Francisco, we (our crowd of eight) indul- 
ged in a general leave-taking of each other, each 
one promising, in case he "struck it rich" to no- 
tify the other boys "right off." (I for one, have 
not yet been notified.) 

While on the steamer, Jones had become ac- 
quainted with a young lady, and this young lady 
was going to Sacramento; and Jones concluded 
that Sacramento was good enough for him, and 
he went— and I saw him no more. 

Brown and Ridley went over to Oakland 
to hunt up an old friend; and although more 
than twenty years have elapsed since then, I do 
not yet know whether they found that friend or 
not. 

German and Tripp went to Benicia, stayed a 
few weeks and then "lit out" for Canada. 

Jenkins went to Petaluma, and from ill ere to 
Sebastopol, and from there to Illinois, and from 
there back to California, and from there to old 
Missouri — (and that nearly let him out), — and 
from there back to California, where he became 
a financial wreck — a true representative of what 
I term — Hungry Land. 

Olsen, the old sailor, secured a job at washing 
dishes at a hotel in the city, for his board; but I 
afterwards learned that a test trial of one week 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 33 

ended the contract, bankrupting the hotel keeper, 
and forcing Olsen into the hospital, where he lay 
for seven weeks under treatment for the gout! It 
was no fair test, as Olsen had just came offa long 
ocean voyage, and steerage fare no doubt had a 
tendency to "scuttle" his earthly tabernacle to 
some extent. If that hotel keeper, by mortgaging 
his furniture, could have managed to keep his 
table going for one week longer, I think the old 
sailor might have filled up and toned down to 
business — but, such is life. 

1 had several inducements offered me in the 
way of employment. One man from the "upper 
country" ottered me forty dollars per month, and 
he said all I had to do was to milk twenty cows 
before breakfast, curry off seventeen horses, then 
do up the chores, and put in the balance of the 
time in the field. I told him I would "see him 
again," but I was very careful not to name any 
particular time or place; and when 1 did see him 
again, I took particular care to know that he did 
not see me. Finally, I went up to Sonoma coun- 
ty, and took a job of chopping cord-wood, in the 
vicinity of Petaluma, and no doubt I would have 
continued at it until this day, had I not commen- 
ced thinking , how it would mar the beauty of the 
landscape to have all the trees cut down! That 
settled me. I did not wish to spoil a country with 
"my little hatchet" 1 love fine seenerv, so I 



34 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

threw up the job and went up on Russian river, 
near where the town of Guerneville now stands 
(in Pocket canyon), and sat down in the shade of 
a huge Redwood tree, and went to shaving shin- 
gles. 

Thus, you see, kind reader, we are creatures of 
circumstances; and although it is an easy thing 
for any one to look back and see where opportu- 
nities were missed, and to see where we might 
have done different ; but it is not such an easy 
task to look forward and see what is best for us 
to do, and figure out the results of the future. 

Of our crowd of eight persons, in coming to 
California, perhaps not one of us ever realized our 
cherished expectations. No doubt all left home, 
full of hope, inter-woven with the glowing antici- 
pations of an improved and prosperous future- — 
and no doubt every one of us, upon our arrival 
here, accepted situations, which, had the same 
been tendered us back home, would have been 
indignantly refused. I could have got plenty of 
wood to chop in Illinois, but the axe at "our old 
wood-pile" did not suit me; and it is quite likely 
that a similar illustration could be applied to all 
the other boys. 

It is a note-worthy fact that a great many in- 
dividuals ramble through life, until they are al- 
most ready to die, before the bitter lessons of ex- 
perience assert their supremacy, and show them 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 35 

how to live. As Shakespeare truly said, it is 

Better to bear the ills we have, than fly to those we know not of. 

Reader, if there is a spot on this earth — be it 
ever so small — a place that you can call Home — 
no matter whether it is in the ice-clad regions 
of the North, or beneath the dreamy skies of the 
"Sun-lands" — my advice to you — first, last, and 
all the time, is: — be contented, and stay there. 

With a Home and Friends — and a Contented 
mind, the World is beautiful almost anywhere; 
and without these jewels, you will find the world 
a barren, cheerless waste — a hungry land, no mat- 
ter where you go. 

Those earthly jewels: — a Home, Friends, and 
Contentment are within the reach of almost ev- 
ery one. The first maybe gained by Industry, 
Economy and Sobriety.; the second may be se- 
cured by Honesty and upright dealing; and Con- 
tentment will come of itself, and abide with us, 
if we take the right view of Life, for — 

"Life is short, and Time is fleeting — 
And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums are beating, 
Funeral marches to the grave." 



36 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

FOOD FOR REFLECTION. 

We are marching on — There is no resting place 
this side the grave. — With many of us the meri- 
dian is passed — the dew-drops that sparkled and 
glistened on the roses that bloomed in our morn- 
ing have long since melted away beneath the 
scorching rays of the noon-day sun. We are 
writing history. — Our epitaphs will soon be read 
on Time's ledger, wherein are inscribed those 
acts, be they good or evil, that never die. Do 
we realize this? Do we ever stop to think how 
much good can be done, and how little is done, ac- 
cording to our opportunities ? If we would all do 
the best we can, we would soon have a society that 
would unlock the prison doors, snatch the victim 
from the scaffold — reclaim the drunkard — and 
bring heaven almost to earth ! 

There are none too puny, and none too weak 
to make gallant soldiers, and win unfading lau- 
rels in battling for the Right, 




THE STORY OF A MILLION. 

(The following little parody I wrote and sent to my brothers in 
Mason City, Illinois, in the winter of 1864, after having had a little 
experience among the old miners on Yuba River). 

Ho ! ye people from afar off: 
Ye who live beyond the mountains, 
Far beyond the Rocky mountains. 
Far beyond the yellow waters 
Of the mighty Mississippi! 
Ye who live in Mason City — 
Come and listen to my story; 
Rally 'round, and get up closer — ■ 
Closer, so you'll hear the story, 
Of my long and weary journey — 
Of my journey to this country, 
To this far-off western country, 
To the land of California. 

How I started off that morning — 
On that mild and bright Spring morning! 
How I heard the wild birds singing, 
How I watched the village fading — 
Fading out so far behind me; 
Heard the hum of distant voices, 
Die upon my ear so sadly, 
How I met with other travelers — 
Travelers bound for California,: 



38 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

How we started, and kept on going, 
Going on our distant journey, 
To the pleasant land of sunshine — 
To the land of California. 

How we reached the bustling city, 
The dashing city on the lake-shore — 
The giant city of Chicago; 
How we tried to eat our breakfast, 
Tried to throw ourselves outside it, 
Tried it hard, but could not do it, 
Because the cars were in a hurry; 
How we jumped on board so quickly, 
And started on for California. 

How we reached Detroit at sun-set — 
Reached there, oh, so very hungry; 
How we went on board the ferry, 
How we tried to get our supper, 
How we sat down to the table, 
How we paid our money for it. 
How we paid a half a dollar, 
Just to get a cup of coffee ; 
How we sat and kept a looking — 
Looking for that cup of coffee, 
Looked and looked, yet could not see it, 

How we crossed the Detroit river. 
Into Canada how we crossed o'er, 
Where they said the cars were waiting, 
Waiting for us hungry people; 
How we got on board and started, 
On our journey, oh so sleepy, 
On our journey, oh, so hungry — 
On the road to California. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 39 

But it soon set in to raining, 
Raining hard and raining steady — 
Steady 'cause it kept on raining. 

Thus the night wore on so dreary, 
Sometimes we sang and oft-times nodded, 
Nodded at the folks all 'round us, 
And they, to keep the thing a going, 
Nodded back, all through politeness. 

But we found 'twould soon be morning, 
Found that day-light was approaching, 
Found that we were nearing somewhere, 
Found the cars were going slower, 
Heard the locomotive whistle, 

Then it was we heard a roaring, 
Heard a sound like distant thunder, 
Like the roar of mighty waters, 
Like a coming storm we heard it; 
Then the truth burst in upon us — 
We were nearing Niagara — 
The mighty Falls of Niagara ! 
Soon we 'gan to cross the river, 
On the wire bridge, Suspension, 
Stretched across the rushing torrent; 
Then it was I saw the waters, 
Pouring over Niagara, 
Saw the spray rise up so grandly — 
Even to the clouds it rose up, 
Forming bows of many colors 
And the noise — oh, it was deafening! 
As I write, methinks I hear it: — 
Hear the roar, the deafening thunder, 
Of the mighty Niagara. 
Oh ! I wish that I could tell you, 



40 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Tell you everything I thought of, 
Tell you what my mind was filled with. 
Tell you how my heart it rose up — 
Rose up 'til I could not say it; 

I could tell you all about it, 
If I was in Mason City — 
All about our journey onward, 
All about the lovely scenery, 
That we saw upon our journey, 
How we crossed o'er running streamlets. 
How we ran through gloomy tunnels, 
Then along the edge of hill-tops, 
How we traveled on for hours, 
Along the banks of Hudson river, 

When we arrived in New York City, 
'Twas on a rainy Sunday evening; 
And the folks there did not know us ! 
Did not know us, 'cause we'd grown so, 
Because we came so unexpected. 

For three weeks we there did tarry, 
Tarried there in New York City, 
Stayed there 'til our ship was ready, 
Then we got on board and started — 
Started on our ocean voyage; 
Soon the river 'gan to widen, 
Began to widen into ocean. 

Then our hearts grew sad within us, 
When we saw the shores receding, 
When we saw the city fading — 
Fading farther in the distance- 
Saw the waters widen 'round us. 
Saw the great big waves dash by us, 
And knew thev were not from the river, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 41 

Knew that we were on the waters 
Of the broad Atlantic ocean. 

I could tell of strange proceedings 
That took place upon the steamer, 
And what I saw upon the voyage, 
But I know 'twould tire your patience, 
80 I will hurry on the journey, 
Hurry over the Atlantic, 
Hurry by the lovely islands, 
Hurry o'er the "deathly Isthmus," 
Where the birds of brilliant plumage 
There do sing their songs so sweetly; 
Where the Palm trees rise so graceful; 
Where Cocoa nuts and ripe Bananas 
Hang in clusters all around you; 
Where the natives dress so oddly, 
Where they sing and dance so wildly, 
Where the monkeys "cut such capers" 
As I'm certain would surprise you. 

I will not attempt to tell you, 
Of our second ocean voyage, 
On Pacific's mighty billows; 
Until we got to San Francisco- — 
To the end of our long journey, 
To the land of California. 

Bat, methinks I hear you asking — 
Asking me to stop and tell you 
How I like this western country — 
What I think of California! 

I will answer, I will tell you, 
Tell you all I know about it, 
Tell you why most people come here, 
Why they leave their homes behind them, 
Whv thev come to California. 



4£ BETWEEN THE TIDES 

— — , k_ — . — 

Many come with expectations, 
Come with mighty expectations. 
Come to get rich, oh, so quickly, 
Come to get rich, so immensely — 
Come to get rich, in a hurry, 
Come to get the "almighty dollar." 

Many come and go to mining — 
Digging for the precious metal, 
Labor hard, and live much harder — 
Almost live on what's called nothing. 
All for the "almighty dollar;" 
And many there are who do not find it, 
Hunt for years and do not find it. 
Dig and look, but cannot "see it;" 
Then they get so disappointed — 
Get so awfully discouraged, 
Because they cannot find the dollar, 
The great big California dollar; 
The dollar they so oft have heard of, 
The dollar they so oft have dreamed of, 
The dollar which they all expected ! 
The dollar that they sold their farms for ; 
The dollar that is always brightest 
When seen at the greatest distance; 
The dollar that beats all creation, 
The dollar that defies description, 
The dollar of hallucination — 
The dollar of imagination ! 

Very brightly shines that dollar, 
When you see it from afar off; 
But the nearer you approach it: 
Its great proportions 'gin to lessen; 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 43 

Then your heart it sinks within you, 
Then you begin to get so home-sick, 
Begin to think you've acted foolish, 
Begin to wish you had not started, 
Begin to wish you was 'most nowhere, 
Begin to smell the wolf, " starvation" — 
The gaunt and hungry wolf, "starvation.? 

You can hear him growl behind you, 
You can hear him bark before you, 
You can hear him whine beside you — 
See him walk in circles 'round you — 
Feel that soon he'll be upon you, 
If you do not find the dollar; 
But the dollar begins to lessen, 
Begins to lose its great proportions, 
About the time you get close to it; 
Thus it is with many miners, 
In the land of California. 

Tli en they begin to grow most reckless, 
Begin to curse the "golden country," 
Begin to wish they all had perished, 
On the road to California! 

Then begins their life of roving — 
Roving through the mountain gulches, 
Roving through the gloomy canyons, 
In search for the "almighty dollar;" 
But some there are who have been lucky, 
In their searches for the treasure; 
But this I say: (for Truth is mighty), 

Of all the mighty emigration 
That have rushed to California: — 
Thev who came from everv nation:— 



44 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

From the sunny dales of England, 
From fair Scotland's hills of heather, 
From the vineyards of the Frenchmen, 
From the Italian's land so lovely, 
From the mighty walls of China, 
From the gold-fields of Australia, 
From the islands of the ocean, 
From every State in our old Union, 
From the snow-clad Russian Empire, 
From every hill and plain and valley, 
From every city, town and hamlet — 
(For all are here in California): 
Few there are that ever find it — 
Ever find just what they came for, 
In the land of California! 

There is many a sad, sad story, 
Many a story of the starting. 
Many a story of the coming, 
Many a broken-hearted story, 
Many a wretched miner's story, 
Many a story that would grieve you, 
Many a story that would pain you — 
Pain you at its sad recital; 
Stories started, wrote and finished, 
By the trip to California! 

But methinks I hear you asking, 
What about this matchless climate? 
I will answer, I will tell you — 
Tell you all I know about it. 
There is much that's very pleasant, 
In the Summer, Spring and Autumn ; 
For the sun it shines out brightly, 
For eight months it shines out brightly 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 45 

And the breezes blow so softly, 
From the great Pacific ocean ; 
Then comes on the rainy season, 
Sometimes raining 'most all winter, 
Sometimes raining, sometimes ceasing, 
Ceasing only to renew it, 
Through the California winter. 

Some say people never die here, 
Never die, but live forever; 
But I say, they are mistaken, 
For 'tis here the same as elsewhere. 
People, they get sick and die here, 
Die because they cannot help it, 
Die, and start off on that journey, 
On that dark, uncertain journey, 
To that land beyond the river, 
To the land of the "Hereafter." 

They leave this land of sunny climate, 
Leave this land of lovely valleys, 
Leave the grand old mountain ranges, 
Leave this land so full of beauty — 
Leave the new-found paying diggings, 
Look no more for gold and silver, 
No more for the "almighty dollar," 
Look their last on all things earthly, 
Leave all behind — and in the leaving — 
Leave the land of California! 

Such is Life, as I have found it; 
Such is Life, this wide world over; 
Life is short, and Death is certain, 
On the land or on the ocean — 
And 'tis the same in California. 



46 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Brothers , my task is almost finished, 

My story is almost completed. 

I pray that some day I may meet yon — 

Meet yon far beyond the mountains, 

Far beyond the sandy deserts, 

Far beyond the big Platte river, 

Far beyond the yellow waters 

Of the mighty Mississippi ; 

In the loved land of my boy-hood, 

In the land of youth's sweet spring-time, 

In the land of golden memories — 

Of fond and cherished recollections — 

There is where I hope to meet you. 

Will you there, await my coming, 
With loving hearts, await my coming, 
When I bid good-bye to mining, 
Good-bye to this Western country — 
A long good-bye to California ? 



PILGRIMS ON THE TRAMP. 

THE HIDDEN QUARTZ LEDGE ON YUBA RIVER. 

The Autumn of 1864 found me once more in 
the wood chopping business, this time, near the 
old town of Sebastopol, Sonoma county. In the 
meantime I had formed the acquaintance of a 
blacksmith named Reed, and he and I resolved 
to " stick together." At the time my story opens, 
we were both doing very well, considering our 
respective avocations: — each one laying up his 
little dollar-and-a-half every now and then — yet, 
like the average specimens of advanced civiliza- 
tion, we both felt quite sure that we could do a 
great deal better "somewhere else," and we were 
contemplating a trip to pastures new and fields 
more green; In short, we informed our friends 
that it was our intention to hunt a better climate 
and more money. 

We met one evening in the village shoe shop, 
to decide the question as to where Ave should go 
and when we should start. 

Arizona, New Mexico and Montana were talk- 
ed of; but Reed had his head set for the old mines 



48 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

of California. He knew there was money there; 
he had been there in '52, made a lucky "strike" 
and then struck for home, bought a farm in Iowa 
and settled down; but visions of old haunted his 
brain, and unsettled him, and here he was again 
in California. After a heated discussion regard- 
ing the different points, we finally agreed to let 
luck point out our road to fortune, which now lay 
between Arizona and the old mines of California. 

Into Reed's hat went three Nevada "quarters" 

"Give her a shake, Reed," said I. Up came 
Arizona. "Try it again, old man." This time it 
was in Reed's favor. "Hurrah for the old mines, 
there is money there," shouted Reed, greatly ex- 
cited. The last shake however, favored Arizona, 
and that point was settled. 

"Hurrah for Arizona!" we both shouted; "Let 
the Apaches and Commanches sound their war 
whoop; Reed and the wood-cutter are coming 
down among you, and — women, children and ve- 
ry old men had better get out of the way." 

We began at once to get ready for the tramp, 
in a leisurely sort of way, the greater portion of 
two days being consumed in packing our valises, 
the contents of which, all told, would not have 
footed up a cash value of more than seven dol- 
lars; and then we bid good-bye to everything in 
the shape of sympathetic human nature in that 
neighborhood, and departed for San Francisco. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 49 

That was in the early part of November and we 
thought we could reach the gold fields before the 
rainy season commenced. 

While on our way to San Francisco, on the 
steamer we met a Sonoma county ranchman nam- 
ed Jones, whom we knew to be one of the wealth- 
iest men in the county. We told him we were 
enroute for Arizona; but he had no faith in the 
lower country, but said he could put us on the 
track of something better in the old mines of Cal- 
ifornia. He told us of a certain bar on the North 
Fork of Yuba river, where himself and a partner 
had kept a boarding house and a trading store in 
'49, dealing out provisions, etc., to the miners of 
that region ; and one day, while at that place, he 
and his partner were putting up a new boarding 
tent, and digging down the river bank to make 
it level they discovered a decomposed quartz 
ledge that w r as literally full of coarse gold, but as 
they were making money faster and easier than 
by digging for it, they carefully covered it up, 
hammered down the dirt, and erected their tent 
over the place, and Jones said he was satisfied 
everything (except the tent) was still there, just 
as they had left it sixteen years ago, and if we 
wished to unearth it, all we had to do was to go 
up there and — dig. He felt satisfied it would 
pay us much better than anything in the savage 
regions of Arizona. W T e concluded to studv about 



50 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

it, and the more we studied, the wilder Arizona 
looked; and I am sorry to say, that by the time 
we arrived in San Francisco, it was whispered 
through the crowd on the pier that we looked ra- 
ther wild ourselves. However, after a brief con- 
sultation we concluded to visit the Yuba river 
country and hunt up that quartz ledge or "bust." 
That night we put up at what was then known 
as the Chicago Hotel, on Pacific street. There! 
met Olsen, the old Norwegian sailor. He was 
glad to see me, poor fellow; he had been sick — a 
stranger in a strange land. He had recently got 
news from Norway, — his only brother had lately 
died and his sweetheart had married a better 
looking man than he was. As he told me his 
sad story, his eyes filled with tears, and in his 
broken English begged me to be a brother to him 
— he wanted to call somebody a friend, for to him 
the world seemed wide and desolate. I promised 
him everything (but money). I told him I would 
be a brother to him and a sister also, if I only 
dared to. I could well afford to be generous, as 
Reed and I were going to the "old mines." 

While we were in San Francisco, we fell in 
with a man who we will call "Jeems." This man 
"Jeems" had an honest face, and wished to try 
his luck in the mines; so we concluded to take 
him in as a partner (he was badly taken in); so 
after taking a "bird's eye" view of San Francisco, 
we went on board a steamboat, bound for Marys- 
ville, where we arrived in due season. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 51 

We tarried over night in Marysville, and on 
the following morning we purchased a frying-pan 
and coffee-pot, and a few of the necessaries of life, 
and set out upon our journey. After a hard day's 
tramp, supposing that we had traveled at least 
forty miles, about sun-dowm we came to Brown's 
Valley, a small mining town, and a sign board 
loomed up with a finger pointing to -the figures : 
"Marysville, 11 miles." No matter, we were tired 
and after passing through the village, we "went 
into camp," which means to say: we kindled a 
fire, made about three gallons of coffee, drank it 
and then curled up under a tree and passed our 
first night in the gold mining region of Califor- 
nia! There was exhileration in the thought! 

On the following morning we started for the 
old town of French Corral, situated on what in 
early days was known as the "Henness Pass" 
Route, where we arrived about four o'clock in the 
afternoon, and stopped a short time at a way- 
side Inn kept b} r an old man named Browning, 
who had lived in that vicinity for several years. 

After refreshing the inner man,' we consulted 
our rudely drawn maps, and became satisfied that 
we were in the immediate vicinity of the bar 
that contained the hidden ledge; and after gain- 
ing all the information we could from Browning, 
in regard to the country, we struck out on a rude 
trail leading up the river, Mr. Browning having 



52 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

informed us that it was his opinion that the 
bar we were in search of, was at that time known 
as "Condemned Bar." 

A short time before sun-down, we reached the 
Bar, and found ourselves in one of the gloomiest 
places imaginable. The mountain tops seemed 
to almost meet, as they hung frowning over us on 
each side of the river. A deep ravine came down 
at the upper end of the bar; and we found the 
place in possession of several Chinamen, who 
were engaged in mining with "rockers" along the 
banks of the river. Altogether, it was decidedly 
a hard looking place. 

The Chinamen seemed rather unsociable, and 
evidently regarded our coming as an encroach- 
ment upon their rights as "old settlers," and sev- 
eral times during the evening, the following con- 
fab ensued between us: 

Chinamen. — "You come here to-day— you go 
'way all same to-morrow? 

Our crowd. — "Melican men come to dig up this 
bar — find big ledge — make lots of money — hire 
Chinamen to shovel heap dirt — give him six bits 
a day. After while you go back to China, very 
rich man." 

During the evening, I asked Reed how he lik- 
ed the "old mines." He simpty answered: "I 
have a farm in Iowa, and "I long to be there, too." 
I then turned to our companion, "Jeems," and 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 53 

asked him how he liked tne situation; and I felt 
sorry for him as he turned his honest face to me 
and said: " I've got a sweetheart in Iowa; I am 
engaged to her but I'd give one hundred dollars 
to be released from her to-night." He, like the 
rest of us, was getting very homesick and lone- 
some in this gloomy place; I told Jeems if he'd 
stay one week on that bar and then have his pic- 
ture taken and send it to his girl I thought that 
considerable less than one hundred dollars would 
let him off. We were in a lonely place and did 
not like the looks of our neighbors. So after 
supper, we sat around our camp-fire forming our 
plans, and occasionally firing our revolvers over 
the Chinamen's cabin; this we did to let them 
know that we were a very dangerous set of men 
and not to be trifled with. 

About midnight we were awakened by a roar- 
ing, crackling noise, and springing to our feet, 
we discovered the surprising fact that we had 
kindled our fire near the edge of a deep "shaft," 
that had doubtless been sunk many years before 
for mining purposes. This shaft had been filled 
up with drift-wood and other debris, which was 
dry as tinder, and our camp-fire had ignited the 
(w)hole. We had scarcely time to remove our bed- 
ding (which, owing to a scarcity, all we had to do 
was to crawl off), when the flames shot up fully 
fifty feet. Eeed guessed the height of the flames 



54 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

at. fifty-one feet, and Jeems insisted on fifty-one 
feet and fonr inches; bnt I am willing to adhere 
to my first proposition, and call it fifty feet. 

It was an exciting time for a few minutes. — 
Reed fired off his old "navy" and shrieked: "To 
arms!" And Jeems and I rushed frantically into 
his arms. The panic stricken Chinamen came 
dashing out of their shanty with about a nickle's 
worth of second hand clothing on the whole lot, 
and a short time after, a few plunges and blind 
splashes was sufficient proof to us that our neigh- 
bors had crossed the Yuba. 

During the night, the heavens were obscured 
by heavy clouds, and a little before daylight we 
were roused from our slumbers by the rain pour- 
ing down with a steady measure that plainly in- 
dicated the first storm of the winter. 

We held a brief consultation. The big shaft, 
that was still belching up flames and smoke, in- 
dicated that the bar had been prospected; we al- 
so had learned from Mr. Browning that the or- 
iginal beds of nearly all the mining streams in 
that vicinity lay buried all the way from forty to 
sixty feet below their present surface, the streams 
having been filled up with "tailings" "sluiced" 
down from the hills above; and we also argued 
that we might not be on the right bar after 
all; and, with a driving storm howling over us, 
we made up our minds to go down the mount- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 55 

ains and try our luck in the foot-hills, nearer a 
base for supplies — and then, if nothing better 
presented itself, we would go back to Sonoma 
county, see Jones and get a more complete des- 
cription of the bar, and try it again some other 
day, earlier in the season. 

After a hurried breakfast, in which crackers 
played a conspicuous part, we took the trail to 
Browning's, where we arrived about three o'clock 
in the afternoon, very tired after toiling over the 
most narrow and by far the most slippery trail I 
ever traveled — said trail, the greater portion of 
the way (about seven miles), winding along the 
mountains' side, overlooking the river — some- 
times mid-way between the bed of the stream and 
the mountains' rocky crest. 

While we were engaged in drying our rain 
drenched garments, and warming ourselves up 
by the different processes known to western trav- 
elers, a heavy train, loaded with machinery for 
a quartz mill, drawn by oxen, came along — en- 
route for Egan's Canyon. The proprietor of this 
train wanted a few more ox drivers and as we 
considered ourselves sharp enough to drive, we 
resolved to apply for a situation. It was agreed 
that I should do the talking, showing forth our 
qualifications etc., and Reed and Jeems were to 
endorse everything I said. I said to much. I 
told the train master, that in regard to Jeems' 



56 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

qualifications as an ox driver, T really knew noth- 
ing, but if the way he handled beef around the 
camp-fire was any recommendation, he certainly 
had no equal in the western county. I then 
launched off in a general way on the peculiar 
manner in which Reed and I had of driving af- 
fairs — told the train-master that we had done the 
principal portion of our traveling with a pair of 
calves, and if we could not drive oxen, it was no 
fault of ours. 

After a short consultation with the teamsters, 
it was agreed by us to test our qualifications for 
handling an ox whip. Reed tried his hand first. 
Taking the 'gad' in his hands, near the butt end, 
he whirled the heavy lash furiously over his head 
for a few moments, and then bracing his, feet and 
assuming the form of a crescent, he blazed away 
at the nearest ox, but instead of striking the ani- 
mal, he cut a gash fully 4 feet long in the canvas 
sheet that covered the train-master's wagon. — 
Reed went into Browning's bar-room to get some 
change. My turn came next. 1 caught hold of 
the whip-stock about the middle, gave the lash a 
vigorous whirl, " whaled" away and succeeded in 
throwing a lasso-like noose around the neck of 
the train-master, who happened to stand too near 
the chap from Illinois. Of course we adjourned 
to Browning's front room, and for a few minutes 
money was no object to me. In regard to the 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 57 

ox-driving profession, Reed and I were excused, 
and Jeems was offered $30 a month and board, 
to drive to Egan's Canyon, with the understand- 
ing, that after he arrived there, he was to have 
work in the mines at higher wages; he was de- 
termined to get back to Iowa, and thinking this 
a move in the right direction, he accepted the 
situation, and the train moved on. 

The dark gloom of winter was already lower- 
ing over the rugged steeps of the Sierras, and 
to reach Egan's Canyon would require several 
weeks of travel and deprivation, through a wild 
and uninhabited region, amid terrible storms — 
the recollections of which, even } 7 et, causes many 
of the old settlers of the Pacific coast to shudder. 
At this writing, memory points to a picture, not 
unmingled with sadness: — It was Jeems' last 
view of his quartz hunting companions — Reed 
and I. As he reached the first bend in the road, 
above us, he turned around, swung his hat above 
his head, and shouted: "Good-bye boys," and a 
few moments later, Jeems was one of the friends 
we had seen, but beheld no more. The sad sound 
of his voice — his last good-bye, like many oth- 
ers, has followed me with its mournful echo 
through the shadowy mists of years. 

That night we camped in Browning's bar-room. 
Browning was an old bachelor, and had no house- 
keeper, bat he kept an assortment of "fluid ex- 



58, BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

tracts" that seemed to obviate all necessity for 
extra help. One of his hands had been "chawed" 
off by a grizzly bear; and he interested us until 
a late hour with thrilling sketches connected with 
his life in the Sierras. 

Very early the next morning, I awoke and dis- 
covered my worthy partner "tending bar" all by 
himself. Of course I asked him why such things 
were 'thusly/ and he replied that he was "mere- 
ly taking an invoice of Browning's stock on hand.' 
As I was out of employment, and a long distance 
from home, I immediately applied for a position 
as book-keeper or something of the kind; but be- 
fore any definite conclusion had been arrived at, 
old brother Browning came in, and your humble 
servant swiftly hid himself beneath his pair of 
"second-hand" blankets and snored; but from 
my humble couch I heard Browning telling Reed 
that he would "treat," give us our breakfast and 
pay our way to Marysville, if we would push out 
that morning. Reed — with an eye to business, 
told him if he would throw in two tin cups and 
three 14 inch plugs of tobacco, the proposition 
would be accepted. The trade was closed with- 
out further parley. An hour later, we shouldered 
our valises, and with a miserable attempt to in- 
augurate a camp-meeting, we sang out: 

Good-bye, old Browning, stick to your "stand;" 

To you and yours, a long adieu ; 
Old Reed in.voiced your stock on hand — 

And we are bound for Timbnctoo. ~« 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 59 

And then we traveled, that is — we trudged. 

As we had no old decomposed quartz ledges on 
hand to bother us, we concluded to strike out for 
Parks' Bar, on the Yuba river, in the vicinity of 
Brown's Valley, and try our luck digging in the 
"old mines." (This was Reed's strong hold). 

We reached Park's Bar in due season, and the 
old man, named Wescott, who kept a toll foot- 
bridge at that place told us that he had a bank 
of gravel near by which he considered "pay dirt." 
AVe put up nearly our last dollar and bought the 
claim and commenced getting ready for business. 

In the first place, we took possession of an old 
deserted cabin on the bank of the river; then we 
borrowed about twenty sluice boxes; we also bor- 
rowed enough stove-wood to last us all winter ; 
then we borrowed an old worn out cook-stove — 
borrowed a sack of flour — in fact, we borrowed 
everything that could be borrowed in that neigh- 
borhood; and then, we twirled our old hats over 
our heads and shouted: "Let winter storms de- 
scend — let loose the flood gates — Reed and his 
partner are well heeled." 

As soon as possible, we placed our sluice box- 
es into position above the river, with good facil- 
ities for 'dumping' into the stream; and then — 
armed with picks and shovels we went to work. 

After keeping our sluice running for two weeks 
we "cleaned up" and found about fifteen dollars 



60 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

of the "precious metal," which was amalgamated 
by quicksilver, which is used to pick up fine gold, 
and this little treasure Reed undertook to retort, 
by placing it in an iron shovel and holding it 
over the fire — when suddenly the shovel became 
red-hot, and our gold disappeared in the shovel 
— absorbed ! Then it become oppressively appa- 
rent that two 'busted' miners stood on the bank 
of Yuba river — with 

"No one to love, none to caress us." 

But we had the best shovel on the bar — there 
was money in it — but it was a borrowed shovel, 
and the owner wanted it. 

Again we resumed operations: borrowed more 
quicksilver, and made our calculations for an- 
other 'clean-up' on a certain Saturday, when sad 
to relate, on the Friday previous, a terrible rain 
storm set in; Yuba river rose with wonderful ra- 
pidity; and on Saturday morning we awoke to 
discover that the toll-bridge and all our sluice- 
boxes had been swept down the river during the 
night — and we never more beheld them! 

About this time, we realized that we were a 
long way from home — strangers in a strange land 
and "flat broke." We had not heard from home 
for nearly three months — did not really know 
that we had a home; and in order to settle this 
question, we concluded to write to Sonoma conn- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 61 

ty and have our mail forwarded to Brown's Val- 
ley, and on the following Sunday morning we 
set out for Brown's Valley for our mail, also to 
see if we could find any encouragement offered us 
in opening a new account at some provision store. 
Brown's Valley was distant about seven miles, 
and our trail lay over a very rough, mountain- 
ous country. We were dressed in our best attire. 
Reed had on a pair of cow-skin shoes, but wore 
no socks; a slouched hat, turned down before and 
turned up behind, and a pair of pants, which, 
owing to frequent patching, no doubt bore a stri- 
king resemblance to a noted coat worn by Joseph 
of old: — they were made up of many colors, all 
surmounted by a garment that might have been 
called, vest, coat or shirt, and as easily been prov- 
en to be neither. I wore a brimless hat, no coat 
at all, a pair of 'run-down' boots, and an old pair 
of canvas "overalls," which had been "half-soled" 
with a flour sack — and it so happened that the 
manufacturer's brand was left so that it was no 
trouble for any one behind me, to read the fol- 
lowing familiar inscription: U XXX Warranted." 
In going to Brown's Valley we had to cross 
Dry Creek by walking through a flume that span- 
ned the creek. This flume was one thousand feet 
in length, and nearly one hundred feet above the 
level of the creek bed, and was used for conveying 
water for mining purposes from one hill-side to 



62 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

another. Although a hazardous attempt for those 
unaccustomed to such feats, we managed to cross 
over in safety. After getting our mail and find- 
ing the credit business abolished at the provision 
stores, we set out on our return; a heavy rain set 
in, and when we reached the Dry Creek flume, 
we found the water rushing through it like a mill- 
race, and with the storm roaring around us, our 
only alternative was to crawl through that one 
thousand feet of flume, on our hands and feet. 
We reached our cabin shortly after dark, in a des- 
perate frame of mind. 




OUK PACK TRAIN IN THE OLD MINES. 

It was then mid-winter, and Christmas morn- 
ing found us frying the string our bacon had been 
suspended with. This we washed down with a 
tin cup full of pepper- wood tea, and then we sat 
down to reflect on the peculiarity of the situation. 
All at once Reed started up and said he believed 
there was a God in Israel yet, for the day before, 
he had seen the tracks of a mountain hare in the 
hills above us, and rising to his full length he 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 63 

then and there declared that ere another sun went 
down, he would have the meat of that hare, or 
he would have wool. 

I told him that I thought it would be useless 
for him to attempt to get within reach of game 
of any kind, as the sight of so oddly dressed and 
as hungry a looking man as he was, would put 
lightning speed into a snail. But Reed was deter- 
mined, and went to a neighbor's cabin, borrowed 
a gun — and sallied forth, while I went to our "out 
door" camp-ground, built a fire under our big 




camp kettle, and waited for coming events. I had 
waited but a short time when a noise start- 
led me. Stepping to an open place near the cab- 
in, I was just in time to see a "jack-rabbit," with 
its hair reversed, going like the wind through the 
chaparral, and making tremendous leaps at ev- 



64 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ery turn in the trail, as it caught glimpses of its 
desperate pursuer. Reed, having thrown away 
his gun, was following the animal at a "break- 
neck" pace. Seeing that it was a race for life, and 
"no funeral of mine," 1 returned to replenish the 
fire under the camp kettle. 

About half an hour had elapsed, when the clat- 
ter of worn out shoes, falling in rapid succession 
on the stony ground, greeted my ears. T looked 
only to see a continuation of the old race. This 
time, the rabbit seemed to be making directly for 
our cabin, but catching a glimpse of my half-sol- 
ed pantaloons, he turned and made for the river; 
and such wild leaps as that animal made, 1 have 
never saw equaled — and Reed also made some 
of the most inhuman jumps and plunges that a 
mortal was ever guilty of, as, with scarcely any- 
thing on except an old pair of buckskin suspen- 
ders (owing to frequent collisions with the chap- 
arral), he dashed wildly in pursuit. The rabbit 
leaped up a rocky point overlooking the river — 
turned for an instant and gave one look at my 
wild partner, who was coming down upon him 
"Like a wolf on the fold" — and a moment later, 
the terrified animal sprang into the roaring flood 
and sank, to rise no more forever — that is, as a 
matter of course, "hardly ever." It is unnecessa- 
ry to add that game of all kinds speedily depart- 
ed from the foot-hills in that vicinity. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 65 




reed's position after the race. 



It was now evident that we would have to move 
or starve, and we very naturally decided upon the 
former course. Mr. Oliver Wescott (a son of the 
toll-bridge keeper) had a desire to work in the 
Redwoods of Sonoma County, and told us if we 
would aid him in securing a situation in that lo- 
cality, he would furnish the money, and pay our 
way. As Reed and I were both very "promising" 
men, w r e promised Wescott to do our best for him, 
and the next morning we were on our way to our 
old haunts, where we arrived safe and tolerably 
sound. Reed found his old place vacant in the 
blacksmith shop at Sebastopol; and a few days 
afterward, Wescott and I started for the Redwood 
country on Russian river — distant about twelve 
miles. 

We intended stopping for the night with an 
old friend of Reed's; he had a timber claim, and 
we hoped to secure a situation with him. 



66 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



After walking about nine miles we entered 
Pocket Canyon, and before proceeding far, mam- 
moth trees surrounded us on every side, deeply 
impressing us with their immensity; but I will 
here add that I cannot accurately describe the 
grandeur of a redwood forest. I once made the 
attempt, but after a feeble effort, I was carried 
home on a smoke-house door, and anxious 
friends hung over me for "several times," fearful 
lest I might recover, but when they found that 
my personal property was mortgaged for its full 
value, they soon nursed me up to my old wood 
cutting weight. About noon we reached the old 
woodman's cabin. It is unnecessary to give the 
old man's name, for when I was a bo}^ I was of- 
ten "whaled" for "calling people names." The 
old gentleman we found engaged in making shin- 
gles. Of course, we were invited in to dinner; the 
old man was but an ordinary cook, yet I presume 
he set out "the best in the shanty." Our dinner 
consisted of cold hominy, cold potatoes, cold ba- 
con, cold beans, and cold water — and as a natur- 
al consequence Wescott and I took a severe cold 
before we got through. 

After dinner, in company with the old man, 
we started out on foot to explore the forest. It 
was a clear day and just after noon, yet beneath 
the shadows of the mighty forest, it was dark as 
twilight in the Eastern States. Such trees I had 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 67 

never dreamed of, and fancied that they existed 
only in the heated imagination of the writers of 
fiction. 

Many Redwood trees on Russian river, I have 
good evidence to believe, stand fully 400 feet in 
height, and as many as One Million of excellent 
shingles have been made from the best portion 
of the trunk of a single tree; and as much as six- 
ty thousand feet of clear lumber has been sawed 
from the trunk of one of these trees. We feel safe 
in saying that there is enough Redwood timber 
in the canyons adjacent to Russian river to fence 
in the world, build a city as large as London, and 
then have enough fire-wood left to supply all cre- 
ation for several years. 

The canyons of Russian river, near the coast, 
are thickly studded with Redwood trees, varying 
in size, from the tender sapling to giants meas- 
uring twenty-five feet in diameter. The bark on 
the larger trees varies from one inch to two feet 
in thickness; and it takes a good chopper from 
two to five days to fell one of these monsters. 

This Redwood timber chops and splits very 
easy. I have seen plank, more than twenty feet 
in length, split or rived out with a common froe 
— in fact, nearly all the "weather-boarding" for 
the cabins of the woodmen in early days in this 
vicinity, was gotten out in this manner. 

One remarkable feature of this Redwood tim- 



68 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ber is: it rarely or never decays. Trees, which to 
all appearance have lain on the ground for more 
than one hundred years, are as sound as ever. 

Upon returning to the cabin, we talked the 
matter over, and finally formed a copartner- 
nership — the old man to furnish the timber and 
the provisions, and Wescott and I to work with 
him, and take our pay in a portion of the tim- 
ber we got out, consisting of shingles, pickets and 
shakes; and on the following morning we com- 
menced operations in earnest. 

The old man first put us to sawing up big logs 
of 'down timber,' with a nine-foot 'cross-cut' saw. 

For a short time we will leave the subject of 
our present field of operations ; but in another 
sketch, we will tell our readers something of our 
experience in the Redwoods — how we got out — 
and how we got back again. 




'Twas a quiet Summer evening, 
Just at the close of day, 

When we came into the harbor 
Of San Francisco Bay. 



TO MY OLD ARMY COMRADES. 

I come to you in friendship, 

From far distant Western lands, 
Where the sun with golden brightness 

Shines on Pacific's sands ; 
Where old ocean's roar is heard, 

Whose billows wash the shore, 
I come to you in friendship 

To review the scenes of yore. 

While coming to this country 

Swiftly o'er the foaming tide 
With nothing of this world to see, 

But billows far and wide, 
When winds blew loud and furious, 

And storm-clouds gathered o'er, 
I often thought of home and friends 

Upon a distant shore. 

The memories of a comrade, dying, 

In my heart doth yet abide ; 
For they lowered him o'er the vessel, 

To sleep beneath the tide ; 
To sleep that last long sleep — 

With the blue waves overhead ; 
To sleep till Resurrection morn — 

'Till the Sea gives up its dead. 



I can ne'er forget that happy day, 

When we crowded 'round the "mate" — 
And shouted, as he pointed out 

Pacific's "Golden Gate!" 
'Twas a quiet Summer evening, 

Just at the close of day, 
When we came into the harbor 

Of San Francisco Bav. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



71 



Since coming to this country, 

I believe what I've been told : 
That men will risk their all on earth , 

For the shining stuff called gold ; 
They will brave the dangers of the deep, 

And toil in distant lands — 
And never heed the steady fall 

Of Life's fast fleeting sands. 

They will dig and delve in gravel — 

Through mud — through rain and cold, 
And forget the God who made them, 

In their scramble after gold. 
But perhaps, in other countries, 

Such men are not more rare 
Than here in California — 

For we rind them — everywhere! 



I remember yet, those by-gone days : 

The days of " Sixty-one," 
When Treason's clouds almost obscured 

The light of Freedom's sun; 




When the drums beat up for volunteers, 

The coming storm to meet, 
And we boys marched with steady tramp 

Down through the village street. 



72 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Those brave old days have vanished — 

And the "boys" are scattered, too; 
In many Southern grave-yards sleep, 

The "Boys who wore the Blue." 
And with these old-time memories, 

The longing comes anew — 
To look once more upon the place 

My boyish foot-steps knew. 

But the Sea is deep, and the way is long, 

And storms come oft, they say, 
While Deserts lie on the "overland," 

And dangers strew the way. 
But some day, from my heart I hope, 

On my native soil to stand, 
And see who's left of all the "boys," 

In my dear old native land. 

Though desert sands may intervene, 

With clouds on every breeze, 
And though rude winds may whiten 

The waves on stormy seas — 
Some day, I hope to wend my way 

Across the desert plain — 
Or ride upon some gallant ship, 

High over the foaming main. 



YUBA RIVER ONCE MORE. 

OUR SECOND SEARCH FOR THE QUARTZ LEDGE. 

After putting in more than four months in 
the Redwoods, it suddenly became apparent to 
Wescott and I, that our ancient partner was de- 
termined to keep us continually at work on a 1 1 
the old 'down timber' that he could find on his 
claim. This was doubtless done for the purpose of 




GETTING THE OLD MAN S LAND CLEARED. 

He would first have us sawing on a steep side- 
hill, then he would find an old blackened log 
in the canyon, and his next discovery would be 



74 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

an old half-decayed stump in some almost inac- 
cessible "gully;" and cheer us with the comfort- 
ing remark: "Boys, when you get through with 
that, I'll find something else for you." We con- 
concluded to "get through" with it, and "find 
something else" for ourselves — in short, we resol- 
ved to abandon the Redwoods, and make anoth- 
er effort to find the hidden quartz ledge on Yu- 
ba river. We had but very little cash on hand, 
and could find no ready cash purchasers for our 
share of the timber that we had worked up, and 
we exchanged it for two 'mustangs' and an o 1 d 
gold watch chain, supposed to be worth forty dol- 
lars, (although I since learned that some suppo- 
sitions are decidedly erroneous); and then, with 
about twenty dollars in cash, all told, we struck 
out for the old mining region. 

Although somewhat out of our direct route, we 
concluded to go by the way of lone Valley, Ama- 
dor county, as Wescott had a relative living at 
that place. As near as I can remember, this rel- 
ative was a third cousin to a half-brother of W T es- 
cott's uncle — and as a natural consequence, — he 
felt "very near"- to my worthy partner. 

Between Sacramento and lone Valley we stop- 
ped at a wayside Inn; and in conversation with 
the landlord, we found that he was tired of that 
section of the country, and very anxious to seek 
a new location; in order to do something for him 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 75 

we refered him to either Sonoma or Marin coun- 
ty — telling him of the Redwoods of the former, 
and of the beautiful Ba}^ of Tomales, which in- 
dents the borders of Marin. Seeing that the old 
gentleman was struck (thunderstruck no doubt) 
with our descriptive powers, we warmed up with 
the subject, and launched off in an unabridged 
description of Tomales Bay — its clam-beds, the 
romantic Island — the shell beach and the splen- 
did fishing — the matchless climate and charm- 
ing scenery. At the conclusion of our remarks, 
the old man — in a fearful state of excitement — 
rushed to the barn, saddled his swiftest horse — 
mounted him, and with jingling spurs, 




HE WENT FLYING LIKE THE WIND, 

in the direction of the famed country, leaving 
orders for his wife to tear down and burn every- 
thing on the ranch, and follow him to the goodly 
land. We passed — (on up the road). 

During the following day we reached lone Val- 
ley, and after a few days' rest, we resumed our 
journey. 



76 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The dust was deep, the road growing more rug- 
ged as we neared the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Passing through Placerville, we soon after cross- 
ed the South fork of American river. After cross- 
ing this river, our road extended for nearly two 
miles up a very steep grade. Higher and higher 
— up we went! We were getting into the Sierras. 
Here the scenery exceeds the loftiest imagination. 
A faint idea of its grandeur may be formed by 
imagining everything in the shape ofdashin g 
waterfalls, rushing torrents, springs of cold water 
gushing from a rocky ledge — narrow, winding 
trails along the mountain side, the crystal wat- 
ers of a river far below, stately pines and firs, 
their tops reaching away up into the blue space 
overhead; while towering in majestic grandeur, 
snow-capped mountains glisten in the sun-light; 
while far back, stretching away, scattered in hazy, 
dream-like loveliness, the rustic homes of t h e 
ranchmen in the green valleys — the miner's cab- 
in, and wigwam of the Indian — all 'flit before the 
eye in one circle-sweeping glance. 

Such scenes are spread out in living reality all 
the year 'round beneath the skies of California. 
From Marysville, which is conceded to have the 
warmest temperature in central California, to airy 
point fifty miles above, can be found as m a n y 
varying climates and changes of scenery, as the 
balance of the world can produce! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 77 

I still -love the foot-hills of the Sierras, and the 
enchanting scenery that adorns their variegated 
steeps; and would never grow weary standing on 
their terraced heights, gazing upon the beautiful 
pictures there unfolded — painted and spread out 
by Nature's great artist, who dips his brush into 
unfading colors, and with one masterly stroke, 
produces a view that the brightest genius of na- 
tions strive in vain to imitate. 

About 9 o'clock on the following morning we 
reached an old deserted town, bearing the name 
of Bottle Hill. The only inhabitant we discover- 
ed here was a Spanish woman; and she inform- 
ed us that we were within a short distance of the 
middle fork of American river, at the same time 
pointing out a rude trail that led to the ferry by 
a much nearer way than the main road. This 
trail was seldom used except by pedestrians, as 
horsemen deemed it unsafe to ride down its ter- 
rifying steeps. As we were in quest of adventure, 
we decided to take the trail; and soon after, set 
out upon one of the most perilous journeys I ev- 
er undertook. Many a time since, I have started 
from my slumbers as visions of the middle fork 
of American river flitted through my dreams. 
A more precipitous trail it would be difficult to 
imagine. We soon dismounted, uncoiled our lar- 
iats and 'strung out,' driving our mustangs be- 
fore us. The mountain that we were descending 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



was mostly covered with scrubby timber, yet at 
one time during the descent we came to an open 
space, which afforded us an opportunity to sur- 
vey our position. We were mid-way on the side 
of a lofty mountain which seemed almost per- 
pendicular, its top towering thousands of feet ov- 
er us, while thousands of feet below, appeared an 
awful chasm — walled up with bluish-white rock, 
through which rushed a mad tor- 
rent, looking, from our position, 
like a silver thread. That silvery, 
looking thread was the mi d d 1 e 
fork of American river ! But its 
thundering voice, from our stu- 
pendous height, we could not 
hear. Our trail to the river led 
in a zig-zag course; and it took 
nearly three hours of unceasing 
travel for us to reach the stream, 
after apparently standing direct- 
ly over it. As we descended, the 
roar of the water gradually broke 

in upon our ears, and when we reached the riv- 
er, the noise of its swift waters was almost deaf- 
ening. The ferry-man took one horse and man 
over at a time, running his boat with rope and 
tackle. The trail on the opposite side of the riv- 
er was equally as steep and more destitute of 
trees, and at one place it ran out to a bare point, 
the river appearing below — on both sides of us. 




BETWEEN THE TIDES. 79 



Here we stopped to regain breath, and to gaze 
upon the wild scene, until we grew faint and diz- 
zy; and then continued the ascent, scarcely dar- 
ing to look back until we reached the summit. 

Two days after this, we reached Condemned 
Bar; and after making a careful survey of the 
premises, selecting a suitable camping place, and 
negotiating an armistice with the Chinamen ; and 
also discovering that our finances were on the 
wane, the day after our arrival, we conclud- 
ed to go up in the hills and see if we could dis- 
cover* some old settler or distant relative who 
could be induced to "put up" a little "grub" on 
the strength of our developing the hidden quartz 
ledge. Fortunate conclusion! 

The next day about noon, we called on a family 
by the name of Greeu. Of course, it required but 
a few minutes to convince them that I was de- 
cidedly green too; and I told them of a host of 
my relatives in Illinois who were fully as green 
as I was. We took dinner with the family; and 
upon our departure for camp, Mrs. Green (Heav- 
en bless her liberal soul), filled up a big basket 
with choice edibles for our especial benefit — 
which, after considerable coaxing on her part — 
we took! On the following day, while we were 
"probing" different portions of the Bar, a gentle- 
man, who I will call Dunbrown, came along. He 
was the owner of a big ranch, and carried a high 



80. BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

head, filled with speculative ideas of bewildering 
magnitude. He informed us that he was an "old 
Californian, and well posted." What he didknow 
might have filled a large book, yet I still think 
what he did not know, would have filled a larger 
and much more salable volume. In order to test 
the contents of Condemned Bar, we concluded to 
dig a deep ditch the full length of the bar (about 
400 feet); and it was one of the rockiest bars that 
was ever "slung" together from big boulders and 
tough clay; and as the digging would naturally 
be hard, we deemed it policy to see if we could 
"let the job" to Dunbrown. 

Cautiously we took him to one side (of the bar) 
and gave him a hint of the glittering treasure, 
supposed to be covered up — told him our plans, 
and if he wished to obtain an equal slice in the 
"bonanza," he could have it by simply digging 
that ditch. No other man on top of ground could 
have secured such a "lay-out" (he was complete- 
ly laid out), and Dunbrown took the job! 

For seven long days he swung the mattock, and 
for seven days Wescott and "yours truly" lay in 
the shade, and hurrahed for the 'old Californian/ 
and told him to hew his way into the 'bowels' of 
that bar; but no signs of gold quartz showed its- 
self — and the deeper the ditch went down, more 
trouble was encountered by the boulders rolling 
in from the sides of the ditch: and finally Dun- 






BETWEEN THE TIDES. 81 

brown became discouraged and fearing lest the 
"fool-slayer" might come along and "bag" all 
three of us, we concluded to change programme 
— in short, all of a sudden I took a notion to 
give up mining. We held a consultation, and it 
was agreed that Wescott and I should go back to 
Sonoma county and bring Jones up to Yuba 
river — and solve the mystery, and in the mean- 
time Dunbrown was to keep possession of the 
Bar. We then saddled our mustangs, and took 
an affectionate leave of Dunbrown, hoping that 
we might never meet him again, unless we were 
perfectly assured that he was sick and unarmed. 
We afterwards learned that he departed for his 
home as soon as we were well out of sight. He 
was, no doubt, as glad to get rid of us as we were 
to get away from him. 

Reader it is a terrible thing to be disappointed 
in some genuine expectation. You are no doubt, 
aware of this — most people are. I have met with 
but few individuals who have reached the meri- 
dian of life, whose feet have not slipped more 
than once while ascending the hill of life's aspir- 
ations. Few of the mighty host that strike out 
expecting to realize big expectations ever reach 
the summit, and the majority of those who have 
been successful, became so, not so much by their 
own exertions as by some freak of fortune or 
luck, or through the assistance of friends. 



82 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

I belong to the class whose feet are much given 
to "slipping," and for the benefit of those who 
never get beyond the "foot hills" of this life, I 
write this crude sketch. If any of my statements 
seem exagerated, I believe I can truly say, such 
things have happened. Life illustrated — as it 
was, is, or may be, produces a curious combina- 
tion. Pictures of every-day life are seldom over- 
drawn. The gilded side is generally thrown to 
the public; it takes better; is more popular, you 
know. Anything that is popular always takes 
well in this age of gilded refinement, even though 
one-half the population is beggared by its appli- 
cation. 

We concluded to return to Sonoma county by 
the way of lone Valley, and during the afternoon 
of the second day after leaving the Bar, we acci- 
dently stumbled upon two small shocks of hay 
(the entire product of a mountain ranch). We 
purchased the whole crop, tied it to our saddles 
and proceeded on our journey. Several miles wi- 
dened between us and the last inhabited house, 
when sundown found us on the banks of Deer 
Creek; and we proceeded to build our camp, to 
pass the loneliest night I ever experienced in the 
mountain wilds of the Far West. 

A few deserted miners' cabins were scattered 
along the bank of the creek — relics of '49 — old, 
dilapidated, and fast crumbling into decay, which 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 83 

served to increase our loneliness, as we peered 
through the open door-ways and wondered as to 
the fate of their former occupants. 

Night came on, settling over us with the dark- 
ness of Egyptian gloom. No sound broke the si- 
lence save the waters of the creek, rippling over 
its rocky bed. Our horses were tied to trees near 
by, giving them about one-half of the hay, put- 
ting the remainder under our blankets, to serve 
as pillows for us that night and feed for our ponies 
in the morning: and then we lay down to sleep. 

How long I slept I know not, but I do know 
that some time in the night I was awakened by 
a severe pinch from my companion. In a whis- 
per, I enquired if he knew where / was, and also 
what was the matter with him f He replied that a 
strange feeling had taken possession of him, and 
stillness instead of noise had awakened him. The 
darkness seemed oppressive. Our horses were ap- 
parently sleeping in blissful ignorance of the ter- 
rible ague that shook their masters. Lighting a 
match I discovered that it was just midnight; 
and by the flickering glare of the match, I caught 
a glimpse of my companion's face; and I wish to 
say right here, that if I ever did have any doubt 
as to my companion being a white man, that one 
glance dispelled all doubt. Just then it occurred 
to both of us that "feeding time" had arrived — 
thus insuring an early start in the morning, and 



84 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

we arose to give our horses the balance of the 
hay — when judge of our surprise when we found 
that our hay was all gone ! It had been taken out 
from under our heads! Hush! 

In amazement, on hands and knees, we crawl- 
ed over what we supposed embraced a wide circle, 
feeling for that hay, in which feeling operation 
we got separated from each other — and then for 
once, as soon as this fact was discovered, we sim- 
ultaneously broke the stillness of the night, by 
fairly shrieking : "Child, whar is you?" As we 
were not over three feet apart at the time, it is 
unnecessary to say, we soon got together. In 
the morning a "tow-path" was plainly visible- 
extending around, and very close to our sleeping 
place, which we had "burrowed" out while mak- 
ing the "wide circuit" above referred to. 

To this day, what became of the hay, is a mys- 
tery to me. Something, or somebody must have 
strayed into our camp with noiseless t r e a d — 
"gobbled" our feed, and silently glided away. 

We both lay awake during the remainder of 
the night, scarcely daring to move. Every few 
minutes, one of us would pinch the other — as if 
to say: "Did you hear anything ?" And as our 
imagination became more heightened, the keen- 
er became the pinches. For my part, I was al- 
most pinched to death — and my companion- 
poor fellow — he has been a confirmed c ripple 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 85 

ever since! — A mere wreck of his former self. 
The last account I had of him, he was roaming 
through the Redwood forests on Russian river, 
in search of light employment. 

About three days after leaving our camp on 
Deer Creek, we reached lone Valley — two of the 
"flattest broke" men California ever saw! And 
the question, how to get back to Sonoma county 
without money, was the leading problem that 
puzzled our brains. There seemed but one alter- 
native — melt up that forty dollar watch chain and 
sell the gold! We accordingly placed the chain 
into a ball of mud,heated it at a blacksmith's forge 
until it was "red hot," and upon breaking the ball 
open, we found a hand-full of metal pieces, bear- 
ing a strong resemblance to coarse, or "nugget" 
gold — -and then we formed our plans. Wescott 
was to remain in lone Valley and work a few 
days for his relative, while I would try to make 
my way to Sonoma county, on the strength of 
the gold nuggets. 

Sacramento was distant about 45 miles; and 
about nine o'clock one morning, I mounted my 
mustang and "clattered." 

In some respects I might have been termed a 
"singed cat" — that is, I was really worth more 
than outward appearances indicated. I had sev- 
enty cents in cash (mostly silver), an old rusty re- 
volver, a "bull's-eye" watch, a mustang (which 



80 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



had been appraised at four dollars), and a melted 
watch chain; and it is reasonable to suppose that 
few strangers would have taken me for the pos- 
sessor of the wealth I actually controlled. 

At noon T stopped and got my horse fed, which 
little act of foolishness cost me fifty cents. I had 
twenty cents left! No doubt I presented the ap- 
pearance of a magnificent ruin, as I rode into the 
city of Sacramento about four o'clock in the af- 
ternoon. My coat was invisible to the naked eye, 
but my toes were visible; my roll of blankets was 
torn to shreds; my hat was merely a rim, while 
my auburn locks waved to and fro, toying with 
the summer breeze — and only twenty cents i n 
my pockets! I .first put my mustang in a livery 
stable and told the keeper that I might tarry in 
the city for several days. After scrutinizing me 
for a few moments, he informed me that "small- 
pox was raging in Sacramento!'' I told him that 
I had wintered on the Yuba, and in my case, an 
epidemic would be a relief. I then made my way 
to the "Western House," gave my revolver to the 
clerk, telling him to 'handle it very carefully,' at 
the same time informing him that in all proba- 
bility I would recruit my secular system at the 
dining table of the "Western" for the space of a 
week. The clerk 'smole' a pensive smile, and said 
he would put on an extra dray when the market 
opened. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 87 

My next move was in the direction of an As- 
say office, which I soon found, and produced my 
nuggets. The assayer examined the pieces, test- 
ing them carefully, and then informed me that 
there was probably three dollars worth of gold in 
the whole lot — and it would cost just four dollars 
to assay it! 

Was that me. or some other waif of humanity 
standing on the street in the crowded city of 
Sacramento, after a ride of nearly fifty miles — 
with empty pockets, and my mustang in the liv- 
ery stable — eating ten cents' worth of hay at ev- 
ery mouth-full, and taking fresh bites with alarm- 
ing rapidity? I ran my hands into my pockets, 
and finding just twenty cents, I became thorough- 
ly convinced that it was me ! 

A thousand thoughts hurried through my mind. 
Other men had stood on these same streets — all 
the way from the days of '49 — and men were 
standing on the streets of Sacramento now — -just 
as flat broke as I was; and then and there, I re- 
solved to return to Sonoma county — though one 
hundred toll-bridges, spanning as many rushing 
torrents, lay between! 

Knowing that the bridge over the Sacramento 
river would be closed at six o'clock, I hurried to 
the livery stable and told the keeper that I wish- 
ed to give my mustang a bath in the river. He 
said be considered that an eminently proper 



88 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

thing to do; and he also intimated that a bath 
would greatly improve my appearance. I took 
the hint, and in order to get even with him, I 
postponed my return to that stable for an indef- 
inite period. 

Time was flying, and I galloped to the hotel, 
and calling the clerk to one side, I told him that 
I had met a friend from the country, and that 
friend insisted on my going out and spending 
the night with him. The clerk handed my revol- 
ver to me, patted me on the shoulder and told 
me to "go to the country by all means." 

After leaving the hotel, I "scampered" for the 
bridge, where I arrived just in time, paid out my 
last cent for toll — crossed the river, and after go- 
ing about two miles, I stopped at a country tav- 
ern, where I registered myself as a second-rate 
busted miner, and put up for the night. 

My mustang was provided with comfortable 
quarters, while I was assigned a place in the dog 
shed. The next morning I presented the hostess 
with one of my choicest "nuggets" — supposed to 
be worth more or less. Of course, I would not 
have done this with everyone (I could not afford 
it), but "seeing it was her," I must be liberal, for 
I had come a stranger — and was taken in (to the 
dog house). 

Soon after I mounted my "plug" and contin- 
ued on my journey; and by being liberal in dos- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 89 

ing (bull-dosing) out my "nuggets" I reached 
Barker Valley, where I fortunately fell in with a 
gentleman named Cunningham, formerly of Pe- 
oria, Illinois. He was then traveling in the in- 
terest of one of the San Francisco Daily papers; 
and after hearing a little of my mining experi- 
ence, he held out a hand full of gold and silver, 
and told me to take out all I needed to carry me 
safely to my destination. I did so, and after- 
wards I had the pleasure of returning to him the 
amount in full. When Mr. Cunningham ten- 
dered me the money, he told me, if in after years, 
I ever met an unfortunate brother, and could do 
so, to give to him even as he had given to me — 
and that was all he asked of me in return. In 
my journal of every-day life, I have written Mr. 
Cunningham down as a Christian of full stature. 
I reached Sebastopol in safety and found my- 
self once more with friends, and at which place, 
I remained until my partner, Wescott, arrived 
from lone Valley, and soon after, we went up to 
our old haunts in the Redwoods, on Russian riv- 
er, where Wescott took up a timber claim, and 
went to shaving shingles and such other light 
work as the severe pinching he had received on 
Deer creek allowed him to do; and I took a job 
of hauling shingles from the woods to Santa Rosa, 
distant nearly twenty-five miles — -with an ordin- 
ary farm wagon, and a single yoke of oxen. 



90 BETWEEN THE TIDES, 

The first trip I made, consumed the best part 
of five days. The load of shingles came to nine 
dollars; and the food for myself and oxen came 
to seven dollars and fifty cents. That's what I 
call doing business with an ox team. 

The second trip I made with that span of oxen 
hasn't come off yet! My employer blamed me for 
being too long on the road, and I blamed the ox- 
en. The case, as to who was right and who was 
wrong, remains undecided. 

About this time, I received a letter from Reed, 
informing me that there was a vacancy in t h e 
blacksmith shop, and, as he knew I was unable 
to pound hot iron, I could get a situation just to. 
stand at the bellows and do the blowing. That 
suited me; therefore I settled up with my em- 
ployer (I was only owing him eighty cents), and 
set out on foot for Sebastopol, where I was receiv- 
ed by my old companion, with open arms. 




OUR REDWOOD CABIN. 



How brightly it gleams : that home in the forest, 

As old recollections float up from the past ; 
The tall forest trees standing thickly all 'round it, 

With their shadows so pleasant that were over us cast ; 
The canyon below, and the brook that wound through it, 

Whose clear waters served us in place of a well ; 
And close by the stream, to the right, as you'd view it, 

Was our cabin of Redwood that stood in the dell. 



The old wagon road winding through the deep valley— 

The young evergreens, springing up by the way, 
Have left in my heart a lasting impression, 

That shines from the past like a bright Summer day ; 
And the bridge made of bark, and the old tree so near it, 

Up-rooted by storms — lying just as it fell : 
Yet dearer than all — I shall ever revere it — 

Is the old Redwood cabin that stood in the dell. 



The soft sighing winds, and the roar of old ocean, 

Sang us melodies rare, through the still hours of night, 

And their memories oft fill my heart with emotion, 
Though that home in the forest has faded from sight. 



92 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Of all earthly spots, that one seems the fairest : 
Like a drink of cold water from a deep crystal well, 

Or like an oasis on Life's dreary desert — 
Was the cabin we built in the cool shady dell. 



Though years have gone by, and that home is far distant, 
And between us the sands of the desert now swell, 

Yet mem'ry grows bright as it beckons me Westward, 
To that old cabin home that stood in the dell. 

The rudely built cabin — the ' 'shake" covered cabin, 
Our cabin of Redwood that stood in the dell. 

Mason City, Illinois, 1870.} 






RUSSIAN RIVER VALLEY, AND THE BIG 
CAMP MEETING. 

Autumn in 1865 found me in the blacksmith 
shop at Sebastopol — but Reed and I were getting 
too tired to be useful; and learning that an o 1 d 
fashioned Camp Meeting was soon to be held in 
the neighborhood of Healdsburg, on Russian riv- 
er, we resolved to go. 

I remember well the morning we started. We 
had managed to borrow a small bay horse and a 
rude cart, or "dug-out," from our employer, and 
mounted on a spring seat that Reed had attach- 
ed to our odd looking craft, we extended a Com- 
manche Indian-like invitation to the small boys 
on the street to "clear the road" — and we mean- 
dered, feeling sure that we had left a vacancy in 
the sleepy old town of Sebastopol that would not 
be satisfactorily filled until our return. 



94 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Our road lay through Green Valley, a beauti- 
ful little vale, skirted with tasty vineyards and 
thrifty orchards. As my companion wished to 
transact some business for his employer, with a 
party who resided in the Redwoods, we took this 
round-about way. We arrived in the afternoon 
at the home of the party who Reed wished to see, 
and here we were prevailed upon to remain over 
night; and on the following morning we "geared 
up" that small "red horse" and started for Healds- 
burg — the Camp Meeting, and all way stations. 

Our route now lay directly up Russian 
River Valley — one of the loveliest regions that 
lies beneath the skies of this sunny land. On our 
winding way, we crossed Russian river nine 
times — and other streams in proportion. 

On every hand, from one end of this valley to 
the other, the scenery is simply enchanting in its 
picturesque beauty. Flourishing corn fields — im- 
mense stacks of Wheat, Oats and Barley; orch- 
ards groaning under their tempting burdens of 
delicious fruit — and rustic farm houses scattered 
up and down the valley, or dotting the hill-sides, 
all served to make up the picture of rural loveli- 
ness that charmed our eyes and thrilled o u r 
hearts with delight as we journeyed on the way. 

The entire Russian River Valley, which may 
properly be considered as extending from Peta- 
luma to Cloverdale — a distance of fiftv miles — 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 95 

all things considered, in my humble opinion, has 
no equal on the Pacific coast. The climate is mild 
and healthful. Water is plenty and of an excel- 
lent quality. No irrigation is required. Wheat 
in favorable seasons and in favored localities, has 
yielded as much as sixty bushels to the acre. Ap- 
ples, Peaches, Pears, Plums, Apricots, Figs, and 
Grapes, yield enormous crops; and vegetables of 
almost eve^ variety are successfully grown. 

Cultivated land in this region (at this writing, 
1885), ranges all the way from forty to six 
hundred dollars per acre — according to location, 
quality, and improvements. 

About noon we arrived at Healdsburg, which 
we found to be a handsomely shaded village of 
perhaps five hundred inhabitants (This, the read- 
er will please remember, was in 1865), 

We drove straight to a Livery stable and Reed 
hailed the hostler "thusly;" 

"I say, Mister, is there a tavering in this burg 
where a feller can git a squar meal at low rates?" 

"Yez zur" said he, "that two-story frame right 
over thar, is a staving house, you bet." 

That was all we wished to know, and after tell- 
ing him to shovel the shelled oats in alopathic 
doses into that red complexioned nag of ours, we 
made a wild dash for the hotel, and were soon 
engaged in getting away with a "square meal;" 
that is as much as to say: we consumed every- 



96 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

thing within a square yard of our immediate vi- 
cinity. 

After a half-hour's violent wrestle with 'grub' 
at the dinner table, we took a stroll through the 
village, and admired much that we observed, but 
during our rambles, we experienced the sorrow 
of being unwilling spectators to a rough and tum- 
ble fight between two women (near neighbors), 
during which contest, snuffcolored hair and crin- 
oline sustained severe loss. We paused only long 
enough to shout: "Eight on, fair flowers of this 
sunny land; Northern chivalry behold and de- 
plore your deeds." We understand that the bat- 
tle continued until a female passer-by informed 
the belligerents that calico had nV, and that end- 
ed the fight! 

In our further perambulations, we met an old 
acquaintance named Tom Clevinger. He was (as 
he expressed it), "one of the uncurried colts of 
New Jersey — -storm tossed, weather-beaten and 
flat broke, but full of hope and "old Nick," com- 
bined." 

Tom informed us that he had recently come 
to Healdsburg in search of employment, and for 
the past few days he had been working on pro- 
bation in a blacksmith shop; and as the propri- 
etor was a zealous Methodist, Tom had made up 
his mind to attend the Camp Meeting, in order 
to create a favorable impression on the mind of 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 97 

his employer; therefore we three concluded to go 
together; and after settling our hotel and stable 
bills, we boarded our little land schooner (that is, 
we placed a board across the rear end of the cart 
for Tom to ride on), flourished our seven foot 
pepperwood "gad" and "lit out." 

Although the camp ground was just about 
one mile distant, by frequent inquiries along the 
road, we managed to reach the place before sun- 
down. 

We found a vast crowd assembled, with a good- 
ly number of Ministers from various portions of 
the State. And among the other good things, we 
stumbled upon was, a Free Dining Table! Hush! 
Be still. Be remarkably quiet. Everything prom- 
ised a good old-fashioned time; and we rejoiced 
that ive were there, and also exceedingly glad to 
know that it was us. 

The evening was beautiful — the occasion im- 
pressive. The surroundings exerted a soothing 
influence; and when the exhilerating aroma of 
smoking viands floated by us from the free board- 
ing tent, visions of the far-away Yuba passed be- 
fore my eyes; hungry memories stirred my soul, 
and with enthusiastic ecstasy, I grasped Reed .by 
his right "bread hook," and shouted: "My old 
comrade, you and I together, to the hungry and 
brittle thread of hope, too oft have clung. Too 
often we have left the onion beds of reality, .only 



98 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

to clutch the bitter fruits of Sodom. The rich 
quartz ledge on Yuba river lies buried beneath 
the reach of our resources. We have hunted gold 
and gathered dross. But here, on the generous 
banks of this beautiful river, we have found 
pasture; and so long as the tin trumpet's "toot" 
calls us with due regularity to the free boarding- 
tent, let us abide/' And Reed lifted up his lute- 
like voice (which strongly reminded me of t he 
boom of a bittern), and said: "It is well," — a n d 
we tarried. 

On the evening of our arrival we attended the 
meeting, taking a position close to the preachers' 
stand — and were very favorably impressed. Af- 
ter the services were over, finding no indications 
of a cold lunch being passed around, we adjourn- 
ed to a straw-stack and slumbered until the tin 
horn sounded the cheering notes, which seemed 
to say : 

"Ye hungry, starving souls, draw near." 

And then, without taking time to wash, comb, 
or even shake the barley "beards" off our clothes, 
we rushed at a 2:40 pace for the table, which we 
reached about two lengths in advance of the fleet- 
est Indian in the camp. 

The majority of the boarders dined, but Reed, 
Tom and your humble servant, considering our- 
selves somewhat human, contented ourselves by 
9imply chaiving provisions and pouring down hot 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 99 

coffee for about seventy minutes — -and then, Tom 
told the folks to "bring on their preachers/' 

About ten o'clock in the morning we took our 
seats in the assembly, and listened to the Gos- 
pel's solemn warning. 

It was Sunday. We were strangers in a strange 
land — far from the haunts of our nativity. Old 
memories were busy in our hearts; and that Sun- 
day I shall long remember. The dark evergreen 
trees overhead — the wild birds flitting through 
the foliage, singing their sweet songs — all served 
to bring back to me, with all their freshness, the 
sweet pictures of childhood. 

Hundreds of people in the vast crowd, had 
come from the mountains and distant valleys — 
twenty — fifty, and even one hundred miles away! 
Quite a number of the Red children of the West 
had also gathered on the outskirts of the camp, 
gazing steadily on the "pale-faced' ' minister — 
listening with wrapt attention as the speaker, in 
thrilling tones, exhorted the wanderers of every 
nation to come home to God. 

My heart was deeply touched; and I felt that 
I had wandered a long way from my Father's 
house. At the close of the sermon, the most in- 
tense feeling prevailed. All present seemed to 
realize that God was there. 

Old woodmen and miners — many of them 
wrecks on the mad sea of Life, stood up and tes- 



100 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

tified to that brighter hope — Faith in Jesus I 

Old soldiers and sailors, bronzed by wearing 
service on land and sea — men who had trod the 
streets of old Jerusalem, and had mocked and 
blasphemed in the sacred places in the City of 
David, on that quiet Sunday morning, rose up, 
and with tears coursing down their cheeks, prayed 
that they might yet be permitted to moor their 
storm- tossed barks on the Golden shore. 

But time sped by, and the big Camp Meeting 
on Russian River came to a close; yet, even now, 
a beautiful vision gleams in the distance, like 
"Apples of Gold in Pictures of Silver." And the 
beautiful valley — the rippling River, and the old 
Camp-ground, I still see, through the fast fad- 
ing portals of the far back, as old recollections 
sweep as it were, the "silver chords" of memory, 
with an angel's hand. 

Twenty years have gone by since we "Tented 
on the old Camp-ground. " Healdsburg has grown 
to be a flourishing city of nearly five thousand in- 
habitants. The "Iron Horse" snorts in the valley, 
and drives the swift wheels of progress from salt 
water to the mountains, consigning to oblivion 
the old traveled ruts of former years; and the 
hum of a riper civilization follows in their wake, 
and catching up the echo from the hill-sides— 
rolls in gladsome tones through the beautiful val- 
lev — down to the Sea. 






LINES TO OLIVER WE SCOTT. 



The following poem of suspicious measure, is one of my first at- 
tempts at rhyming; and may be considered an ' 'off-hand" invita- 
tion to my Yuba river companion of 1865, to induce him to return 
with me to the ''States." After reading this poem, it is unnecessary 
to state that Wescott remained in California. 



Old friend, let's go where fragrant blossoms 

Load the air with sweet perfume ; 
Where, for such men as you and I, 

There's always "lots" of room ; 
Where the fruit defies for flavor, 

All the lands 'long side the Sea — 
Say, don't you feel like starting— 

To that happy land with me ? 



Where the blue birds and the black birds and the jay birds 
sing so merrily, 

In the early dewy morn — 
Making music for the plow-men, 

In the fields of yellow corn and white corn, sugar corn and 
seed corn and other varieties of corn. 
Where people can be happy, 

If they only try to be ; 
Then sell your claim for whatever you can get, 

And sling yourself back home, and settle down close to me. 



102 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Where wild grapes do hang in clusters, 

Throughout the forests brown, 
And black haws and red haws and persimons and pawpaws, 
like a lot of us boys at the close of a dance one night, 

Lie scattered on the ground. 
To that land that lies so far aw T ay — 

On Mississippi's shore, 
Where oft you've battled with the tide, while working on the 
railroad for ten dollars a week — 

In those good old days of yore. 

Dear friend, my heart grows sad — 

I can scarce suppress a sigh, 
To think that as well a put up man as you are, would come 
away out here to chop wood and maul rails and shave 
shingles, and then curl his self up — 
And then pile down — and then die ; 
For there's nothing on this dreary coast 

But sighs and endless fears, 
That follow us, like a well trained coon dog, from early in the 
morning until about two hours after dark — 
Adown the steep of years. 




ADIEU TO CALIFORNIA 



[Written on the Steamer "Golden City," on niy return to Illinois, 
by water, in 1866]. 

I'm going home— O, California- 
Fades thy land-scape from my view ; 

Through the Golden Gate we're passing, 
Out upon the ocean blue. 

All thy mountains, hills and valleys 
Look to me more lovely, now ; 

All thy fields and shady wood-lands, 
With fresher verdure seem to glow. 

Oft while in your lonely gulches, 

Seeking for the golden sand, 
I have cursed the luck of miners, 

And Pacific's sunny strand ; 
But when thoughts come crowding o'er me, 

Of my leaving thee for aye, 
Forgotten are all disappointments— 

I can but sav : a kind adieu. 



104 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Far behind me now are fading 

The checkered scenes of Western life ; 
No more will I come back to view them, 

Filled as they were with toil and strife. 
The White sails in the wind are flut'ring ; 

My eyes once more rest on the land ; 
But fast 'tis fading — fast receding ; 

Again I wave the friendly hand. 



Around our ship the shadows gather, 

Bright, o'er the waves,the moon-light beams, 
While far above our noble bark, 

The faithful head-light gleams ; 
The sunny land far out has faded, 

Old ocean's waves around me swell ; 
Home voices in my heart are whispering : 

Pacific shores — a long farew T ell. 







WE " ABOUT FACE," AND STEAM 
FOR ILLINOIS! 

Owing to my old journal being burned some 
five years ago, I am somewhat at fault in regard 
to dates; yet as near as* I can remember, I made 
my arrangements to return to Illinois about the 
tenth of April, 1866. Jenkins, of Illinois, and 
Reed, my first companion in the search for the 
hidden quartz ledge, and the Author, concluded 
that we would "all go home together." We used 
our strongest arguments to induce Wescott to ac- 
company us, but he had fallen in love with a 
pretty girl in the Redwoods, and avowed his in- 
tention to stay with her; and a few days before 
our departure, we sent an invitation to him to 
come and see us and bid us good-bye. Two days 
after the invitation was sent, Wescott answered 
in person; and when the morning of April tenth 
came around, we indulged in a general leave-ta- 
king; and I take pleasure in saying that when I 
bid good-bye to Oliver Wescott, I shook the hand 
of an honest man and a true friend. 



106 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Arriving in San Francisco, we secured tickets 
for New York, via. Panama and Aspinwall, tak- 
ing passage to Panama on the steamer Golden 
City, and from Aspinwall to New York on the 
steamer, Costa Rica. Of course, we took the steer- 
age. Had there been a second-grade steerage, we 
would have taken that; and to be honest about 
this business, in our dilapidated financial condi- 
tion, we would have taken anything except Castor 
oil. The journey to New York was a very pleas- 
ant one, and as near as I can remember, consum- 
ed about twenty-two days. We were nearing home I 

At New York I doffed my old California "work- 
ing harness," bought a ticket to Peoria, Illinois, 
and by careful count, found that I had just Five 
Dollars left! 

Kind Reader, after an absence of more than 
two years, fraught with toil,hardship, deprivations 
and disappointments, I was returning to my old 
home with empty pockets ! 

In due course of time I arrived at Peoria, and 
then went down the Peoria, Pekin and Jackson- 
ville Railroad to Forest Citv station, distant from 

%j • 

Mason City about sixteen miles. 

At this point I stopped for a few hours to rest, 
and to inquire of the citizens if they had any def- 
inite idea as to who I was and where I was going. 
During the afternoon I met a teamster going to 
Mason City, and with him I made a bargain to 
convey me to my home for the insignificant sum 
of two dollars ! I arrived at home about dark, with 
exactly one dollar and fifty cents in my pockets ! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 107 

For the first month after my arrival home, I 
was kept pretty busy answering questions and 
rehearsing my experience about life and times 
in California. With the men, I succeeded very 
well. With my young lady friends, the case was 
more difficult; for they all seemed anxious to see 
some specimens of genuine California gold, that 
all returned Californians were supposed to possess. 

For the inspection of the more inexperienced, 
I produced the few remaining relics of that melt- 
ed watch chain! That satisfied them. Another 
portion of my fair interviewers I silenced by say- 
ing: "Ladies, you are aware that at the present 
time, gold is very high; and as a business man, 
with an eye to business, I exchanged all my gold 
for greenbacks ! By this innocent strategy I saved 
my credit. But I could not remain idle and do 
anything like a "land office business in Illinois. 

I had no money, but found friends who were 
willing to aid me, and they asked me: What 
do you wish to do? Having read one of "Josh 
Billings' health Almanax," and knowing the po- 
tency of a box of compound cathartic pills, prop- 
erly handled, I answered: 

I want to be a Druggist, 

And with the "druggers" stand; 
With powerful mixtures on my shelves, 

And a pill-box in my hand. 

That settled the entire business, and in much 
less time than it takes to change postmasters, I 
was duly installed in my new position, surround- 



108 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ed by four caddies of fine-cut chewing tobacco, a 
lot of cigars, a keg of whiskey (for medicinal pur- 
poses), twenty pounds of quinine, half a barrel of 
seidlitz powders, ajar of rhubarb, sixteen gross 
of Bateman's drops, and three crates of Harlem 
oil. (This last item done the business for your 
beloved writer). 

There was a great deal of ague in Central Ill- 
inois nineteen years ago, and it did not take me 
long to discover the fact that quinine and whis- 
key were generally prescribed as the great spe- 
cific for all diseases of a malarial character; and 
as a natural consequence, Harlem oil was laid in 
the shade; for it did appear as if almost every 
body was either shaking with the ague, or had 
symptoms that called for the standard remedy. 
Often, as a healthy patient came in, I soliloquiz- 
ed "thusly:,' This man does not appear to be ve- 
ry sick, although he says he is all doubled up, and 
if his prescription is not filled, he might get most 
awful sick, and then blame the druggist — and a 
druggist cannot see his fellow-man suffer when 
the remedy is at hand. I grew tired of the drug 
business. There was too much ague there, and 
no disease so far as I could learn that could be 
reached, either by Harlem oil or Bateman's drops, 
and I began to inquire for the man who wished 
to invest in a small but carefully selected stock 
of drugs. I found mv man. He offered me one 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 109 

hundred and fifty dollars for the entire stock — 
and fifty dollars more if I would keep the Harlem 
oil! I closed the trade on the first proposition. 

In the meantime, it may be news to the gen- 
eral reader to learn that old father Time had 
kept his mill running right along; and the first 
thing I knew, the Summer of 1867 was in the 
field — and found me out of business. 

At this time Mason City was a town of about 
three hundred inhabitants, with no railroad fa- 
cilities; yet among its population it contained a 
printer: Elder J. M. Haughey, who preached to 
the apostate sons of Adam on Sundays, and op- 
erated a job printing office during week days; he 
had about a hat-full of second hand type and an 
old press that was made by a man named Jones. 
It was the oddest looking press my eyes ever had 
the chance to rest upon. There were 'no flies on it.' 
It had an inking cylinder about the size of a nail 
keg located at the rear end, and this cylinder's 
business (when the press was in motion), was to 
execute a sort of double summersault, glide un- 
der the press and then come to a dead halt, in or- 
der to give the office " devil" time to take a fresh 
chew of tobacco, and then it would slowly mean- 
der to its first position and await further orders. 
This press (I have been informed), was capable 
of making several impressions every now and 
then. At last accounts it was in the field — but 



110 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Jones, the inventor — he died of remorse years 
ago! I am sorry for Jones. 

To make a long story short; after thoroughly 
canvassing the field, Mr. Haughey and myself 
concluded to establish a newspaper. Our means 
were limited, but enterprising citizens put their 
hands into their pockets and told us to bring on 
the necessary machinery and fire up. 

We then purchased an outfit from Rounds & 
James' type foundry, of Chicago, hired a printer, 
and on the Fourth day of July, 1867, the firm of 
Haughey & Walker issued the first copy of the 
Mason City Weekly Neivs. (At this writing, the 
old paper still waves, with Haughey at the helm, 
although its name has been changed to that of 
Independent). 

Our paper created a boom in the little town. 
Subscribers came to the office in crowds; many 
of the business men subscribed by the year for 
ten, fifteen and twenty copies each, and also ad- 
vertised beyond our expectations, so much so as 
to make it necessary to enlarge our sheet twice 
during the first year. Money rolled into our office, 
and we soon forgot the bitter experience of for- 
mer years. A branch of the Chicago, Alton and 
St. Louis Railroad was built through Mason Ci- 
ty, to be followed a few years later by the Indi- 
anapolis Bloomington and Western Railroad. — 
Real estate loomed up. Two handsome public 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Ill 



school buildings were erected at a cost of nearly 
forty thousand dollars. Churches, banks, an op- 
era house, and all conveniences and essentials of 
an enterprising town, were soon represented; and 
Mason City became widely known as the most 
wide-awake and flourishing town in central Ill- 
inois ; and to-day it boasts a population of near- 
ly five thousand people. The low lands in the 
county have been thoroughly ditched and drain- 
ed, greatly improving the sanitary condition — 
driving malarial diseases from its borders — caus- 
ing the once dreaded name of ague to sound like 
a wail from the past. Vive J a Mason City. 



mm 



WM 













S^'^jgtf 



MY FIRST NEW YEAR'S GREETING. 

To the Patrons of the Mason City "NEWS." 
January First, 1868. 

We come to you: our patrons, 

With love on every hand, 
To scatter joy and gladness 

Throughout this happy land ! 
The old year that has passed away, 

To some, a life-time seems: 
For with it faded swiftly by — 

A throng of happy dreams. 

And some with joy, look back. 

To the days of -67, 
Whose every hour seemed wafting them 

A little nearer Heaven . 
Bright youth grew up, with rosy cheek; 

Old age lay down to die — 
But Time, ne'er heeding, marched along, 

As the old year glided by. 

We've a sigh for those who sorro.w, 
And a smile for the blithe and gay, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 113 

And we come with love to greet you, 
On this jolly New Year's day. 

While the golden rays of Summer, 
Shone o'er the fields of grain, 

We launched our little paper, 
In this city on the plain. 

And now, though fierce winds whistle, 

O'er all this land sublime, 
We'll try and make it to you all, 

Seem just like Summer time. 
To the great lakes of the Northland, 

To Mountain, Hill and Plain, 
To the Cities and the Hamlets, 

And to old Ocean's main, — 

W T e come to you with greeting, 

That we hope will always last, 
To bind the sunny present, 

With the shadows of the past; 
That your pathway to the future, 

Though a cloud may o'er it be, 
May lead you safely where you can 

A "silver lining" see. 

We greet our beloved patrons, 

From Sitka to the Rio Grande; 
From the hills of the Old Dominion, 

To Pacific's golden strand, 
And we are proud to tell our readers, 

That the Old Flag, yet unfurled, 
Still floats high o'er America, 

At peace with all the world. 



114 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Every Island of the ocean, 

And the Nations from afar, 
Look on our glorious Ensign, 

As the bright and morning star; 
All countries do us honor, 

And award the highest palm, 
To the Light-house of Creation, 

Our dear old "Uncle Sam!" 

And the time is fast approaching, 

(As we think God wills it should,) 
When this mighty Universe will be 

One common brotherhood. 
The cable spans the Ocean, 

And the Railroad's going through, 
Which like a mighty chain will bind 

The Old world with the New. 

And we hope our new acquaintance, 

So recently begun — 
Will only end with us on earth, 

When all our work is done. 
And now, while pleasant memories 

Of old times are hovering near — 
We wish our friends, all o'er the land- 

A Happy — Glad, New Year. 



BACK TO CALIFORNIA. 

I TEY THE OVERLAND. 

I continued in the newspaper business until 
the Spring of 1874 — nearly seven years — and it 
found me completely broken down in h e a 1 1 h . 
My physicians advised me to try a change of cli- 
mate; and strange as it may appear, I resolved 
to return to California! 

In the meantime, I had married, and a family 
was growing up around me at a rate that would 
have been positively alarming, had the afore- 
said calamity overtaken me years before on 
the banks of Yuba river. We decided to leave 
Illinois, and accordingly, I sold out — home, bus- 
iness and everything else in the shape of proper- 
ty: and now, if the Reader will bear with me, I 
will endeavor to give the main outlines connect- 
ed with a journey from Illinois to California — on 
an emigrant train. 



116 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The 17th day of June, 1874, v/as the. day of our 
departure from Mason City — going from there to 
Bloomington, where we boarded the Chicago, 
Rock-Island & Pacific train, for Omaha, by way 
of Peoria. Our route from Bloomington to Om- 
aha, led us through as lovely a region as the sun 
shines on, for surely, there are few fairer regions 
on this green earth, than that portion of country 
traversed by the Chicago, Rock-Island & Pacific 
Railroad — through Illinois and Iowa — in the 
month of June. Matchless pictures of Nature's 
landscape painting, greet the eye, in one contin- 
uous panorama — on every hand — for hundreds 
of miles. 

Omaha (which we reached in due season), we 
found to be a bustling city of more than thirty 
thousand population. It is the starting point for 
travelers bound for the Far West; and at the big 
Union Depot (which is now located on the Iowa 
shore, at Council Bluffs), getting on board a West- 
ern-bound emigrant train, with a family of small 
children, with the accompanying, indispensible 
camp equippage — blankets, pillows, cooking uten- 
sils, provisions, etc., is no small job. There is al- 
ways a large crowd, of cosmopolitan make-up — 
a general rush — a terrible jam, and dire confu- 
sion. There is the usual quota of swearing, hun- 
dreds of crying children, a small regiment of pet- 
tish women — a host of surly men — innumerable 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 117 

pick-pockets and loafers — the unpleasant situa- 
tion being relieved, only by the happy thought, 
that perchance there might be one or two honest 
printers in the crowd. 

At Omaha, the emigrant from the farther East 
becomes aware of the fact that a change will soon 
"come over the spirit of his dreams;" for at this 
point the gold and dross of humanity are separa- 
ted. The sheep and the goats are divided — the 
goats as a natural consequence, take the first-class 
trains, and the "sheepish" looking emigrant is 
given a stiff piece of pasteboard, setting forth the 
fact that the holder thereof is an emigrant of the 
first water, and must retain his or her seat for at 
least nine consecutive days, if aforesaid ticket-hold- 
er hopes to reach the Golden Shore, as "stop-ov- 
er" checks are not on this programme. First 
class passengers only, are allowed these luxuries; 
and this accursed policy of "man's inhumanity 
to man" has made "countless thousands mourn.' ' 

After getting our trunks weighed, and, as usu- 
al, paying for a difference in weight in favor of 
the U. P. road (for baggage gains largely in trav- 
eling through Illinois and Iowa), we were next 
encountered by the Railroad Company's "rope 
fiend" who sauntered up to us, and in a neigh- 
borly way, said: "By the way, Mister, I don't be- 
lieve those trunks of yours are sufficiently strap- 
ped to stand the racket, clear through to Califor- 



118 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

nia — but for twenty-five cents apiece, I will rope 
'em up so nothin' can't shake 'em." We paid the 
sum demanded, and then stood by and saw this 
same railroad fiend rope in at least fifty other ig- 
norant passengers, This is one of the many little 
Railroad games, which should receive the hearty 
condemnation of all classes of this Republic. 

We got safely on board and secured our seats • 
and a few minutes later, I was thoroughly con- 
vinced that lumber and calico were certainlv on 
the rise ; for a man came into the car with two 
pine boards and a couple of old calico sacks, fill- 
ed with saw-dust — and this man told us those ar- 
ticles were just the thing to fix up the hard seats, 
and convert them into comfortable sleeping 
berths. This was another Railroad trick. This 
"good Samaritan" told me that the usual price 
for such things in Omaha, was five dollars, but, 
(he added, confidentially), "As you were late in 
getting on board, you can have the whole out-fit 
for two dollars and fifty cents!" I looked at the 
hard seats, and then at my tired family, and — 
I closed the bargain right then and there; and 
after embracing my benefactor, and urging him 
to allow me to go out and order a cup of warm 
tea for him — in remembrance of h i s Christian 
qualifications, I bade him farewell — and hope to 
never hear of him again. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 119 

About five o'clock in the afternoon, the bell 
rang — the engineer blew his whistle — and off we 
started, at a speed that bore a strong resemblance 
to the gait of a printer's "devil," when going on 
an errand; and in somewhat less time than it 
usually takes to get a claim through the United 
States Pension Department, Omaha was fading in 
in the distance — and the boundless region of 
"wind-loved" Nebraska, was soon stretching out 
on either side — and away beyond ! 

''Over the plains, so wide, so great, 

Like a snow-bound inland sea, 
We whirled along from State to State, 
Day by day, early and late, 

Towards the Western Sea. 

And day and night, and night and day, 

With still, unceasing roar, 
We glided by river and dale and hill, 
O'er alkali plain and mountain rill, 

To the distant Sunset Shore." 

The country, for two hundred miles West of 
Omaha, in regard to natural beauty and fertility 
of soil, is unequaled, and certainly offers rare in- 
ducements to people in search of cheap homes, in 
a new and rapidly rising State. 

We passed the towns of Fremont, Columbus, 
Grand Island, North Platte and Sidney, and oth- 
er places of minor importance — and all of them 
appeared to be in a prosperous condition ; and I 
take pleasure in saying that so far, I have never 



120 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

seen a town in the State of Nebraska, with a pop- 
ulation of five hundred people, that did not have 
a good, substantial and commodious School house. 
It does not take lobbying and electioneering to 
build School-houses in Nebraska. As a general 
rule, in that State, when the people wish to make 
a town, they build a good School house — and the 
town grows up around it. 

On the third day after leaving Omaha, the 
entire State of Nebraska lay behind us, and the 
soil of festive Wyoming was pressed beneath us. 

While traveling, with snail-like pace over this 
region, our eyes feasted upon the unsophisticated 
cactus, scattering antelope, prairie dogs, stray 
buffalo, poor country, etc., until the grim peaks 
of the Rocky Mountains, loomed up in the dist- 
ance; some were dark and frowning, some cover- 
ed with verdure, and others mantled with snow. 

The next point of interest was Cheyenne, 516 
miles West of Omaha. Cheyenne has an eleva- 
tion of 6,000 feet above Sea level. At this point 
we stopped for one hour, which time was princi- 
pally occupied by the passengers in laying in 
a new supply of provisions, of which we found 
plenty, and at reasonable prices. 

On the same evening after leaving Cheyenne, 
we reached Sherman (the summit). The eleva- 
tion at this point is marked at 8,242 feet It is 
distant from Omaha, 550 miles. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 121 

Sherman is the highest point on this road, yet 
the ascent is so gradual that one can scarcely re- 
alize the immense height attained. The scenery 
is grand and beautiful, but tame when compared 
with the rugged steeps and dizzy precipices of 
the Wasatch and the Sierras. 

In the due coarse of time we reached Ogden, 
where we changed cars, and were soon bowling 
along over the Central Pacific Railroad, at a rate 
of speed that seemed to say: " We'll get there by 
and by." After leaving Ogden, we traveled for 
several miles in plain view of Great Salt Lake, 
but the city of Salt Lake cannot be seen from the 
line of the Central Pacific. 

Our time from Ogden until we reached Cali- 
fornia, was employed as usual, in buying grub, 
spanking the children, and looking out of the car 
windows, gazing (for the most part), upon what 
seemed to me, the most barren, and apparently 
God-forsaken country, that was ever manufactur- 
ed from an inferior quality of gravel, sage-brush, 
sand and alkali. Just think of it! A little more 
than two thousand miles from O m a h a to 
San Francisco, and fully twelve hundred of those 
miles pass through a country that is just about 
as devoid of vegetation as the bottom of an Illin- 
ois frog pond, at the close of a long, dry season! 
It struck me as the picture of desolation, clothed, 
not with sack-doth and ashes, but sand. and alkali. 



122 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

We arrived in San Francisco on the ninth day 
after leaving Omaha; and I will also add, that I 
think the sights to be seen, and the lessons that 
may be learned along the road, will amply repay 
any one for making the journey from the East 
to California. 

I could write a large volume, relating to the 
wonders and beauties of the Wasatch and Sierra 
Nevada mountains — if I only had time, and knew 
hoiv to do it. In some places, while passing 
through Weber and Echo canyons, the motion, 
jar, and rumble of the train, shook pebbles and 
dirt from the beetling crags, that hang over the 
road, and they came rattling down upon the tops 
of the cars and against the windows like hail- 
stones; while huge boulders, of many tons weight, 
hang in menacing attitude, hundreds of feet ov- 
erhead, apparently ready to dash down and hurl 
the passing train into unfathomable chasms of 
inextricable and unregenerate absquatulation. — 
(The winding up of the above sentence is partly 
o-riginal, and partly afc-original)."" It was and is 
yet my opinion that on some quiet evening, some- 
body or somebody else, will get hurt on the Cen- 
tral Pacific railroad. 

To people in moderate circumstances, and who 
have a desire to come to California, we would 
say: If you do not value time too highly, and are 
not ashamed to ride in company with respectable 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 123 

p e o p 1 e — take an Emigrant train. If, at a n y 
time, you get tired riding, you can get down and 
walk, and employ your leisure time in gathering 
the docile cactus, or curious pebbles, and resume 
your seat at pleasure. (We say this with all due 
deference to the speed of the average emigrant 
train). 

To the emigrant, starting put on the Overland, 
we would say: If you don't do anything else that 
is worthy of note, by all means, lay in a heavy 
stock of provisions, for you will need all you can 
carry; and it would be good policy to continue 
"laying in" grub at every station along the road, 
where an opportunity presents itself, for it is tru- 
ly wonderful, the amount of provisions a small 
family will consume on a two thousand miles 
journey — on a slow train. 

In laying in your outfit, do not put too much 
confidence in dried beef; it is not the thing for 
travelers over a desert country, as it requires en- 
tirely too much irrigation. Corned beef and ham 
thoroughly cooked and well freshened, will an- 
swer; and with coffee and tea, crackers, and fresh 
bread, (which you can buy along the road), and 
with plenty of jellies for the children, will bring 
you through in good shape. Do not be so reckless 
as to invest in dried buffalo meat, that is often 
found at the stations, unless you want to shingle 
your house with it — after you get through ; for you 
can never chew it with those teeth of yours! 



124 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

While in San Francisco, among the many pla- 
ces of interest, we visited Woodward's Gardens, 
which at that time, was, for all classes, the most 
popular resort in the city. The inclosure embra- 
ces about six acres. The entrance is through an 
architectural gateway, surmounted by four colos- 
sal statues, or carved figures. We first made our 
way to the Museum, the doorway to this institu- 
tion being formed by the jaw-bone of a bird call- 
ed the /whale, the two lower ends resting on th e 
stone foundation, and coming together at the top 
at the height of eighteen feet, formed a perfect 
oval arch. In the museum we found almost ev- 
erything that we had ever seen or heard of: min- 
eral specimens from California, Australia, Arizo- 
na, Mexico, Nevada, Colorado, Montana and Ida- 
ho; thousands of rare and beautiful shells of ocean, 
curious old coins, bearing date long before the 
time of the Caesars; relics from Egypt and Pales- 
tine; a piece of the great Chinese Avail; old scraps 
of history on parchment, centuries old; rusty ar- 
mor that once gleamed on the crusaders in the 
days of chivalry ; the stump of the cocoa tree un- 
der which Capt. Cook was murdered by the Ha- 
waiian savages — and a thousand other curiosit- 
ies that space forbids mentioning. We then took 
in the grand menagerie, the conservatory, zoo- 
logical department, the shady dells, the aquarium, 
the moving panorama of the great city and the 
shipping in the bay (to be witnessed from the ob- 
servatory; the magnificent trees, lovely walks; the 
brilliant flowers and rare grasses, etc., — and then 
we said: It pays to visit Woodivard's Gardens. 



RETROSPECTION. 

Thoughts of other days surround me, 

Wafted up by memory's flow ; 
Within my heart, they are sadly pointing, 

Back to Forty years ago. 
Through the haze, and misty shadows, 

Wove by Time's unceasing tide, 
I see the old familiar homestead, 

AVhere a loving Brother died. 

And looking back a little farther, 

Voices sad, fall on my ear — 
A group of little children gather — 

Bitterly weeping — 'round a bier. 
Faint and fainter, grow the voices, 

'Round that pallid form of clay; 
And even now, I hear the whisper : — 

"Our Mother — she has passed away." 

Years since then have come and vanished, 

Leaving in their rapid flight, 
Hopes for future, by the way-side, 

That bloomed in Morn to fade at Night ; 
And now I find me looking backward, 

Through the dreary space, so wide — 
Through the thickening, hazy curtains — 

To the day when Mother died. 

O ! how fond is memory's pleading, 

With our hearts, grown rude and cold ; 
Causing us to retrace our foot-steps, 

To the scenes in days of old. 
Bringing up fond recollections, 

Of cherished ones, "gone on before — 
Reminding us that we are nearer — 

Closer to the "other Shore." 



FROM CALIFORNIA TO OLD MISSOURI! 

A CHANGE OF CLIMATE APPEARS TO BE NECESSARY. 
FOR SUCH IS LIFE. 

This chapter, or sketch, I copy mainly from 
printed extracts taken from my old journal, 
written at the time the events connected there- 
with were transpiring; and I publish it, as an il- 
lustration, to show that "man born of woman, is 
of few days, and full of"-*— changes. 

Soon after reaching California, the second time, 
I went to Sebastopol, at which place I found 
my old companion, Reed, who had left Iowa sev- 
eral years before, and had, as he expressed it, 
"Come back to California to stay. 11 I located in 
Santa Rosa, purchased a half interest in the 
Santa Rosa Press (it has since been changed to 
the Republican), but my health did not improve 
— in fact, within six weeks after my arrival in 
the Golden State, I became so reduced that I was 
ashamed to be weighed, and had to put shot in my 
pockets to induce the scales to gauge my weight 
at 112 pounds. I grew alarmed. An eminent 
physician advised me to change climate at once, 
and recommended South-west Missouri! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 127 

When I get scared, I act promptly — always did. 
I sold out my interest in the newspaper business, 
and six o'clock on Friday evening, October 16th, 
1874, found the Author and his family o n t h e 
Oakland ferry-boat — crossing the Bay, to take 
the cars at Oakland — enroute for the country 
East of the Rockies. 

Out upon the waters of the grand old Bay, we 
take a long, lingering look at San Francisco. The 
night was beautiful — bright moonlight, calm and 
pleasant. A thousand brilliant lights were danc- 
ing and shimmering in the city; and thickly stud- 
ding the harbor, rose the tall masts of stately 
ships, and floating from their mast-heads the 
colors of almost every nation on the civilized 
globe — and the grim war sentinels, peering over 
the frowning battlements of Fort Alcatraz, all 
served to form a picture of more than ordinary 
magnificence and grandeur, and one that I shall 
look back to with pleasure, long after the inci- 
dents of the way shall have faded into forgetful- 
ness. But this will never do. Sentiment must 
give way to solid facts and square built figures. 
We reached the train — everybody admits that — 
and soon had the satisfaction of finding ourselves 
snugly ensconced in good, comfortable seats, 
which, by-the-way, is a most notable event in the 
journey overland, and in this case we were in- 
deed fortunate in finding a large train, plenty of 
passenger cars and a small crowd. 



128 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



We occupied the hind-most passenger car, and 
while we are munching crackers and passing pea- 
nuts around to our children, let us take a brief 
look at the occupants of our traveling coach, and 
find out if we can who they are and their reasons 
for going East. In the first place, close beside 
us is Mr. Peter Sweet and his wife. They had 
been to Oregon in search of health and a little 
more money, but, finding neither at an alarming 
rate, they were bound for their old home near 
Kalamazoo, Michigan, expressing a disgust for 
everything pertaining to gloomy, rainy, dismal, 
misrepresented Oregon. 

There is Mr. Scott and family, going to their old 
home in Iowa. They had been living in San Jose, 
Cal., for some time; and were favorably impress- 
ed with California climate, with the exception of 
the rainy season and the dry season; and Califor- 
nia having nothing else to offer in the shape of 
seasons, the Scott family had concluded to "rise 
and explain" to their friends in Iowa. 

Scott was one of the most persistent ham eat- 
ers, I think I ever saw; he, aided by his amiable 
wife and a small corps of infantry, managed to 
"get away" with a whole ham about every second 
day — he was decidedly a "ham-fed man," and 
was going where pork could be successfully grown. 

Then, there was a young, jovial Canadian, who 
had been in Oregon, Washington Territory, and 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 129 

around Puget Sound considerably; he had grown 
weary of a hard life and threadbare society, and 
was going to where he would havo a chance to 
hear from the Lord at least once a week — he was 

"marching down to old Quebec." 

There was an Englishman from Nevada; and 
he had his pockets filled with, what he termed: 
moss "hagets" (no doubt meaning moss agates;) 
and he had a great deal to say about hog-den. I 
presume our English friend had reference to Og- 
den. This man had lost all faith in Nevada, and 
was heading for Paterson, New Jersey. His first 
name was John Mills. 

In an adjoining seat, perched in an artistic at- 
titude, was a quiet looking German, w h o h a d 
spent six years in San Diego ; and now he w a s 
leaving glorious, sunny California, enroute for 
New York, all on account of an enfeebled pocket 
book and failing health. 

A little farther on, we find Mr. Laufman and 
his two sons. They were from Plumas county, 
Cal., and were going on a visit to their old home 
in Illinois; and they were the only persons on our 
car, who expressed their intention to return t o 
California. 

Then, we had a "wild Irishman" on board; he 
had been digging and delving around San Fran- 
cisco for a long time, when finally, no doubt, be- 



130 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

coming too familiarly known at the free soup 
houses, he wrote to his "darlin' Biddy" to s e n d 
him the requisite number of " Spinner's auto- 
graphs," and now, he was heading for the East 
river; and lastly (ourselves excepted), there was 
a smart looking, old man, who had been throw- 
ing away his muscular development at San Le- 
andro, (or, as he termed it " Sally ander"), for 
seven years — doing his level best to earn enough 
to carry him to 

"a low green valley on the old Kentucky shore." 

But the adverse winds and fickle tides of for- 
tune had kept him on the threshold of the poor- 
house, until recently he had struck pay-dirt in 
a one-horse Livery Stable, at the rate of seventy- 
five cents a day; and now, he was going home to 
"play on a harp of a thousand strings." This 
man had lived eighteen years in Mobile — and he 
wanted everybody to know it. 

He told every man, woman and child on the 
train, that he had "lived Eighteen years in Mo- 
bile;" and the funniest part of it was, he was con- 
tinually engaged in argument, upon almost 
all subjects, with which he was just as familiar 
as a red rooster is with a set of buggy harness — 
he wound up all arguments with the clinching as- 
sertion: "Gentlemen and Ladies, I know what I 
am talking about, for I have lived Eighteen vears 
in Mobile." 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 131 

This old San Leandro-ite told everybody — all 
along the route — from Sacramento clear to Oma- 
ha that he had "lived" 18 years in the city of 
Mobile; and b}^ the time we reached Omaha, 
Nebraska, there were at least eighteen hundred 
and seventy-five individuals, who were familiar 
with the fact that we had on our train a m a n 
who had "lived in Mobile for Eighteen years." — 
This fact should be generally known. 

On Sunday morning we crossed the line be- 
tween California and Nevada, and soon after, 
reached Reno — 292 miles from San Francisco, 
and, like a majority of home-sick emigrants, I so- 
liloquized about as follows, as I stood on the plat- 
form of the car, watching the Sierras fading in 
the distance: We have left California behind us; 
California — the hardest country to get into, and 
the hardest country to get out of after you do get 
there. California — the fairest spot on earth when 
viewed through retrospective glasses, two thous- 
and miles away! Thousands of people have ex- 
pressed themselves in this manner — and after- 
wards changed their minds, just as I did, for in 
less than one year after my return to the 'States,' 
I found nryself closing my eyes to the toil, trials 
and disappointments experienced on the Pacific 
coast, and in my mind's eye, beheld only those 
grand old mountain ranges, the green valleys — 
the crystal lakes and rippling streams of beauti- 
ful California !. 



132 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Reno is a beautiful town, situated at the East- 
ern base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The 
Truckee river flows almost directly through the 
place. It is only 24 miles from Virginia City, and 
occupies quite an important railroad position. 

In the valley near Reno, I saw several fields of 
Alfalfa, which is said to do well in that locality. 
A heavy-bearded, revolver-jeweled Reno-ite told 
me that the alfalfa in that region had but one 
root; and, said he, "that root will go down in the 
earth until it reaches water, if it has to bore its 
way clear through the Great American Desert — 
set up edge-ways." Rather than contradict him, 
I merely added — jes-so. 

About twenty-five miles East of Reno, we en- 
ter the Great Desert — sixty miles of white sand, 
with only a stunted sage-bush now and then to 
relieve the monotony. Some people living in the 
waste places so frequently found along the Over- 
land route, claim that all the country lacks, is — 
plenty of water and good society. As it has been 
intimated that those essentials are about all that 
hell lacks, we naturally conclude to locate farther 
East. 

A considerable portion of this most desolate 
region was once inhabited, or rather infested, by 
the Shoshone Indians, whose chief occupation 
was murdering, and robbing; but after the Rail- 
road — the world's great civilizer made its appear- 



j 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 133 

ance, the Indians were relieved of a great respon- 
sibility (so I have been told), and have been for- 
ced to take a back seat, in "beggars' row" and 
"starvation corner." Once more — such is Life. 

Leaving Nevada, we enter Utah, and after go- 
ing about 125 miles, we reached Promontory, the 
place that witnessed the completion of this great 
Railroad; for it is at this point where the U. P., 
and, the C. P. Railroads met — and the East and 
West shook hands. We think it was the 10th of 
May, 1869, when the last rail was laid, and the 
last spike was driven — the event being witnessed 
by nearly one thousand people, representing ev- 
ery State and Territory of this Republic. The last 
spike (a gold one, presented by the State of Cal- 
ifornia), was driven by ex-Governor Stanford. 

Shortly after leaving Promontory, we come in 
sight of Great Salt Lake. Away off to the right, 
we see it, spread out like a vast inland Sea. The 
landscape in this region, bordering the Lake, be- 
tween Promontory and Ogclen, is of rare beauty. 
The land is very productive, and is mostly laid 
out in small, w T ell improved farms, and pure wat- 
er is abundant. 

As it will not do to tarry too long in Utah, we 
will hurry on to Cheyenne — nearly 1400 miles 
East of San Francisco. Here we laid in a supply 
of venison and antelope; and then, after passing 
over about fifty miles of the gradual descending 



134 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

plain, dotted with an occasional farm house, vast 
herds of cattle, and innumerable prairie dog vil- 
lages, we enter the State of Nebraska. The gener- 
al aspect of this State, is broad, rolling prairies. 
The Western portion has rather poor soil/ adapt- 
ed principally to grazing, but the soil greatly im- 
proves as we travel East. 

Fifty miles farther, brings us to Sidney, and 
then about fifty miles more, and we reach the old 
town of Julesburg: and then we bowl along, fol- 
lowing the course of the South Platte for nearly 
seventy miles, until we reach North Platte City. 
The country from Julesburg to North Platte is 
much of a "sameness" — a fine agricultural and 
grazing region, and is already yi elding golden re- 
turns to the hardy settlers. One mile East of 
North Platte City, we cross the North Platte riv- 
er; and a short distance South of this, the North 
and South forks of the Platte unite and form one 
broad, but shallow stream, whose course we fol- 
low for nearly 250 miles, when it receives the 
waters of the Elk Horn river, then diverges to 
the right and joins the Missouri at Plattsmouth, 
fifty miles South of Omaha. We first made the 
acquaintance of the North Platte river at Fort 
Steele, in Wyoming — more than 400 miles West 
of North Platte City. Its length is supposed to be 
not less than eight hundred miles. The great val- 
ley of the Platte is a magnificent region, almost 
as boundless as the ocean. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 135 

One hundred miles farther East, and we reach 
Kearney, and now we begin to catch glimpses of 
old-fashioned, civilization — poultry, hogs, patches 
of corn and pumpkins, and log huts. (This was in 
1874, please remember). 

Thirty-five miles farther East, and Grand Is- 
land heaves in view. Grand Island, from which 
the town derives its name, is the largest island 
in the Platte river. It is about 40 miles long and 
in many places, 2 miles wide. Abridge, eighteen 
hundred yards in length, spans the Platte at this 
point. In '74, Grand Island contained about two 
thousand inhabitants, and as late as the winter 
of 1880-'81, I was offered eighty acres of excel- 
lent land, all cultivated, within less than 2 miles 
of the town, for two hundred and fifty dollars! The 
party who owned the land, wanted to come to 
California, to raise oranges; and at that time, I 
was endeavoring to sell a printing office in Lin- 
coln (Neb.), for the same purpose. Two fools met, 
and we did not trade. (Please don't noise this af- 
fair over all creation, for I am weary. Grand Is- 
land now, (1885), contains nearly ten thousand 
inhabitants, with fine public school buildings, 
churches, a Government Land office, Railroad 
machine shops, large flour mills, &c. 

Fifty miles East of Grand Island, we reach 
Loup City, and from here to Omaha — a distance 
of nearlv one hundred miles, it is difficult to im- 



136 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

agine a more beautiful country — matchless prai- 
ries, interspersed with clumps of timber, thrifty 
farms and flourishing towns, greet the eye on 
every hand — along the entire route. 

From Omaha, West, one hundred miles, and 
from the same point, East, for the same distanre, 
through Iowa, we can safely say, without fear of 
contradiction, that Nature has been most lavish 
in dispensing her rarest gifts, for, scarcely any- 
thing is lacking that is calculated to invite peo- 
ple to settle, and make their homes in that truly 
magnificent, beautiful and fertile region. But we 
must resume our journey. 

It was Sunday evening — our second S u n d a y 
since leaving San Francisco. The moon shown 
with unclouded splendor; and the glimmering 
lights of a City in the distance, plainly indicated 
that we were nearing Omaha — the Eastern ter- 
minus of the "Wild West." 

The entire length of the U n ion and Central 
Pacific Railroad — stretching from Omaha to San 
Francisco, is 1925 miles. The first rail was laid 
in July, 1865, and on the tenth of May, 1869, the 
last spike was driven, and the road pronounced 
in running order. The road is protected by over 
70 miles of snow-fences and more than 40 miles 
of snow-sheds. This road has been critically ex- 
amined by the ablest engineers in the country, 
and they have given it the highest praise. Hav- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 137 

ing several times, traveled from Ocean to Ocean, 
we unhesitatingly pronounce the Union & Cen- 
tral Pacific Railroad, one of the best constructed, 
and one of the safest roads in America. Its bed 
is smooth and solid, and a lasting credit to the 
skillful engineers under whose supervision it was 
constructed. 

We arrived at Omaha in a thankful frame of 
mind; and it may be in order to state that the oc- 
cupants of "our car" all stopped at the Railroad 
House. This house was fitted up by the Railroad 
Company, especially for emigrants, and it is so 
arranged that it can certainly accommodate 
more people of the same size than can possibly be 
accommodated in any other hotel in America, of 
similar dimensions ! For accommodating a large 
number with a small space— first, last and all the 
time — I say: Give me a Railroad hotel to stop in — 
(for about a minute). 

During our night's "stop-over" in Omaha, at 
the Railroad Company's Hotel, the chief damage 
that I sustained, was in climbing the stairway to 
our "bed-room." Nearly all of my coat buttons 
were scraped off, while squeezing between the walls 
of the stairway ; but I do not blame the Railroad 
Company for this trivial occurrence — I lay the 
blame entirely on the stairway. 

About three o'clock in the morning we were 
awakened from our flea-bitten slumbers, in order 
to get ready to take the train for Kansas City — 
and I think we all answered to the first call. 



138 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Of course, we had our "camp equipage" to get 
into shape for the journey, and in the harry and 
confusion, the Author of this Book, packed his 
bundle rather "loose and careless," and after get- 
ting partly under it, I made several ineffectual 
attempts to rise with the enormous bundle, but 
was compelled to call the family to my assistance, 
and with a heroic and prolonged u All together'' 
I was enabled to assume an upright position, and 
then I staggered blindly in the direction of .our 
train. It was very dark, and I had proceeded but 
a few steps, when my foot struck against the rail- 
road track — and I commenced falling — and nev- 
er let up until I fell over nearly one-third of the 
depot grounds, and finally came down, all in a 
heap, with less than half a ton of miscellaneous 
"trumpery" piled all around and on top of me. 
My first inclination was, to implore the first pass- 
er-by to bury me where I fell, but the puffing of 
an engine in close proximity to my head, caused 
me to abandon my first intention, with an agili- 
ty that was really surprising. I threw blankets, 
tin pans, buckets, pillows, bread, fruit jars, and 
canned goods, right and left, and — arose. By ral- 
lying a few of our former fellow-travelers, a por- 
tion of my scattered luggage was recovered, and 
we finally managed to get on the train; and arriv- 
ed at Kansas City without further mishap, and 
purchased tickets from there to Sedalia. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 139 

Our journey from Kansas City to Sedalia was 
made in the night, and of the appearance of the 
country, I am unable to give a lucid description, 
but in regard to the Missouri Pacific Railroad — 
between the two above-mentioned points — I will 
just say, that I never rode so fast, nor over such 
a rough road, or in such a crowded car, with less 
accommodations and courteous treatment, than 
on the night of October 26th, 1874, on the Mis- 
souri Pacific Railroad, between Kansas City and 
Sedalia. There were at least 150 persons crowded 
into the car we occupied. Every seat was jam- 
med more than full; and the aisle was a surging, 
struggling mass of individuals, trying — often 
vainly, to keep on their feet. At least 25 passen- 
gers (many of them ladies), were compelled to 
crouch on the floor, huddle in the corners — or 
stand as best they could, in the passage-way, du- 
ring the entire distance; and to add to the gen- 
eral discomfort — the night was warm — and the 
water-tank was empty. 

Whether it was the badly proportioned coach, 
the rough road, or the rate of speed, I cannot say, 
but I never received such an unmerciful jolting, 
but once before — and that was over the rickety 
old rails that stretched from Nashville (Tenn.), to 
Chatanooga — in the stormy days of '63. But we 
reached Sedalia, without any serious ills, except 
skinned shins, lacerated pantaloons and "run- 
down" boots — all caused by desperate efforts to 
retain our footing on the car floor. 



140 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

From Sedalia we went to Clinton, Henry coun- 
ty, where we located, and remained for one year, 
and would doubtless have made that our perma- 
nent home, but that year — unfortunately, the 
grass-hoppers and chinch bugs took the contract 
for doing all the farming in that section of coun- 
try — and we left the business in their hands, and 
moved to Crete, Nebraska. 

In summing up my experience so far, in the 
Far West, I will just say: When I left California, 
I put it down as the most widely mis-represent- 
ed countr} 7 on the face of the Globe — and perhaps 
it is. I went there, determined to like it; but, for 
some cause or other, I soon found myself looking 
Eastward with a longing as fervent, as in former 
days I had looked upon the beautiful features of 
the Pacific slope. I am sometimes led to believe 
that this queer revulsion of feeling, after one gets 
there, is the result of a struggle (which nearly all 
experience), between the desire to remain; and 
the feeling of loneliness, and the kindred associ- 
ations that are constantly urging us to return to 
our native haunts — and in about five cases out 
of seven, the latter wins! 

When I had passed the Sierra Nevadas', on my 
return — as I beheld that quintessence of pictur- 
esque-grandeur fading in the distance — I began 
to think California wasn't such a hard country , 
after all ; and when in the great Nevada desert — 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 141 

surrounded on every side with barrenness and des- 
olation, the inward monitor of discontent, whis- 
pered in nattering tones, and pointed back to the 
green valleys and shady nooks of California; and 
while passing through Utah, I frequently found 
myself telling loafers around the Railroad depots, 
that, "California is no slouch of a place" — and 
when I had passed Wyoming, all the disagreea- 
ble features of the Pacific slope had, apparently, 
simmered into fertility — the dust did not seem 
half so deep — and the rainy season — it wasn't so 
very bad, after all ! And when I got down among 
the papaw and persimmon patches, and "mud- 
daubed" cabins of the Missouri River bottom, I 
said to the natives: "Why don't you get out of 
here, and go to California — and live like white 
people?" During my year's sojourn in Missouri, 
I really liked the appearance of the country, and 
I am yet willing to admit, what I believe to be a 
fact: that, : considering her natural resources, Mis- 
souri is not much behind the firstr States of the 
Union. With plenty of fertile landman abundance 
of timber, and inexhaustible mines of iron, lead 
and coal, and a great river and its tributaries to 
aid her commerce, it is yet a mystery to me why 
land is held so cheap in many portions of the 
State. In Missouri I found plenty of people who 
were comfortably situated, trying to sell out, for 
the purpose of removing to California! I had be- 



142 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



gun to learn that too much moving was poor bus- 
iness, and resolved to do my level best to be con- 
tented and remain in Missouri; but after being 
shook up with the ague a few times, singed with 
lightning, pelted with hail-stones and half scar- 
ed to death by deafening peals of thunder, I be- 
gan to reflect. When the chinch bugs destroyed 
the corn crop, I grew sad and somewhat dejected ; 
but when the grasshoppers came and commenced 
to peel the apple trees and carry off the fence rails; 
then I thought it was about time to draw a line, 
and in drawing it, I drew myself and family out 
of Missouri, and once more bent my steps West- 
ward. (Shortly after I left Missouri, I understand 
that the chinch bugs and grasshoppers also left, 
and have not been there since ! Reader, between you 
and I, it is my candid opinion that I could make 
a decent living if I was in old Missouri noiu. 




Hunting Turkey along the Osage River. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



143 



Verily, ''Distance lends enchantment to the 
view," and I find myself drifting into my favor- 
ite theory, and that is : few of us know what we 
really want — and are seldom content when we 
have it. 

A contented mind is the safest oar that ever 
paddled a life canoe adown the stream of man's 
earthly pilgrimage. If you are blessed with good 
health, and can make a good, honest living — stay 
where you are. 



Bi^^SS^f^B^^SaoK 






m3& 


xSSIfe 



THE MARCH OF TIME. 

Upon the golden span of To-Days's bright shore, we stand ; 

And, looking back, through Retrospection's vale, 

Visions — sad, and beautiful — woven in Life's fitful dream, before us 

rise. 
"Tis Spring, and over Earth, the queen of beauty walks. 

Boyish foot-prints on hill-side, and in the vale, we see, 

As though but yesterday they had been made ; 

And fancies of youthful days flit before us, with the same freshness 

— once so real, 
Ere from our sight, they, by the remorseless flight of Time, were 

hurried. 
A low-roofed cottage, with creeping vines, we see, 
And down the beaten path, in front, a mother leads her boy. 

Time rolls on. — 
The Summer's heat and noon-day's sun have come and gone ; 
Autumn, with its "sere and yellow leaf" has tinged the forest trees, 
Add given place to stern Winter, who holds the earth in fetters — 
cold and grim. 

Years glide by. 
Gone are the bright visions, and in their stead, we see a lonely grave, 
And o'er it kneels a bent and aged form, 

In whose shrunken eyes, we recognize the boy of long years ago — 
And as the moaning wind goes by, we catch the meaning of his 

trembling voice, 
As he sobs out the sacred words — "My Mother." 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 145 

In one swift glance, we see how Life begins — and where the weary 

march will end. 
A myth — a dream or vision, that one rude blast will e'en dissolve. 
Nations by that invisible power, spring up and people the broad 

universe : — 
Are born, and live — to droop and die ! 
And generations yet unborn, perchance, in future ages upon their 

graves will look, and wonder who within them lie. 

The mighty warriors who guarded once the gates of Thebes, 

Or lined the banks of the Euphrates — 

Whose prowess for centuries kept the Eastern world at bay, 

Had for their light, the same Sun, and Moon, and Stars, that we 

do now behold ; 
And they, perchance, oft-times looked back to the foot-prints, and 
Upon the resting place of their ancestors' dust. 

Still onward sweeps the tide of years : — 

Scepters, before whose imperial sway, nations paled — lie broken. 
Empires, proud cities, massive gates and mighty walls, into decay — 
Before the resistless march of Time, have crumbled. 

To-day, a thousand fleets ride high o'er oceans' waves — 
To-morrow, a thousand ghastly wrecks bestrew the shore ; 
But Time, the great Tomb Builder, strides on ; 

His foot-steps never lag. 
Suns rise and set ; and through the realms of space, glides the pale 

Moon- 
Bathing in her silvery light, Mountains, Rivers and Plains that re- 
flected her glances when first the world began. 

Seasons come and go, 
Nor heed the fate of man, who with feverish brow and anxious tread. 
Plods wearily through his allotted space, seeking, as it were, a place 

— to die. 
But, thank God, a Hope — gathering strength from that golden 

promise — within our hearts shines forth : 
Whispering of a fairer land than this, for those who love the Lord — 
And from whence there'll be No Looking Back. 



THE A UTHOR'S OPINION OF CALIFORNIA 
AND OTHER STATES. 

Every Cloud is supposed to have a silver lin- 
ing, and every picture ; its bright side — and there 
are, generally, two sides to every question. 

Reader, we believe there is a sunny spot in ev- 
ery human heart, and we believe there is some- 
thing good and noble in the nature of every man 
"born of woman;" and we also believe there is 
something good and and honest in every civil, 
political, and religious organization. This rule, 
we think, also applies to communities, States and 
Nations. 

Every Country, every State, and every district 
has its advantages, as also its disadvantages; and 
from my personal observations, during several 
years residence on the Pacific coast, I feel justi- 
fied in saying that California forms no exception 
to the general rule. And what I say, concerning 
California, or any other State or country, I shall 
endeavor to say — not from a desire to please any 
particular class or community — but from an hon- 
est desire to deal fairly and squarely with my 
fellow-men — and to tell the Truth, though the 
Heavens fall! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 147 

When I first came to California, I had three 
objects in view: Health, Adventure, and a Soft 
quartz ledge : but finding neither to any great ex- 
tent, after two years, I returned to the " States," 
thoroughly disgusted with everything pertaining 
to the far Western country — and strange as it 
may appear, since that time, I have repeated the 
journey from the East to California, Four times, 
each time bringing my family along and taking 
them back with me — and I am in California to- 
day; and much of the time during my sojourn 
on this coast, I have been financially "busted," 
and often "out of flour!" 

While in Nebraska, with the fierce storms of 
winter howling around me,I have often said : "On- 
ly give me standing room in California, and you 
can have my entire interest in all the country 
East of the Rocky Mountains — it's climate that 
I want." And often while in California, I might 
have been heard to exclaim : "Talk all you please 
about the sweeping winds and twisting "bliz- 
zards" of Nebraska, but the withering cyclone 
of poverty, so often felt in California, is the hard- 
est wind I ever faced." 

I have been repeatedly asked for an honost and 
impartial opinion in regard to California, and the 
prospects for a man bettering his condition by 
changing his location from the far East to the 
far West, but, owing to my being engaged in the 



148 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

newspaper business during the greater portion of 
my time while on the Western Coast, it has been 
a very difficult matter for me to answer these im- 
portunities — but I generally told my correspond- 
ents to come and see for themselves; and I can- 
not now think of any better advice to give them. 
I yet think and believe that it is best to deal hon- 
estly with our fellow-men, even if they do come as 
strangers, with plenty of money, seeking homes 
in a new location. 

Now, we all know that just so long as Time 
lasts, people will come to California — and go back 
to where they came from ; and many of those per- 
sons will repeat the operation (just as I have 
done), until they become financially demoralized, 
and all that I write, j>ro or con upon the subject, 
may have little or no effect upon the "moving" 
class, for in nine cases out of ten, they will take 
their own heads for it any way. 

But notwithstanding all this, I propose to say 
something for the benefit of those individuals 
who have never been on the Pacific coast, and 
who have their minds bent upon coming — no 
matter what the sacrifice may involve ;and my ad- 
vice, honestly and sincerely given, is this: If you 
and your family (if you have a family), are en- 
joying good health, and making a decent living, 
do not sell out your old homes, and rush to Cal- 
ifornia, with the expectation of bettering your 



BETWEEN THE TIDES, 149 

Condition, merely upon the strength of what you 
have heard. It is often easier to make a mistake 
than to correct one. 

If, however, you are determined to come— then 
by all means, come before you sell out, and after 
you get here, do not be in too big a hurry, but 
take a good, careful look> and "see how it is your- 
self." If, after coming, you should conclude to 
remain, you will lose nothing by adopting this 
course; and upon the other hand, if you find the 
Pacific coast country does not meet your expec- 
tations, and find yourself disappointed, and con- 
sequently dissatisfied — *then you will be doubly 
repaid in having pursued this common-sense pol- 
icy of first taking a "look before you leap." And 
this rule applies, not only to the emigrant who 
seeks a home on the shores of the Pacific, but al- 
so to him who seeketh a new location in any por- 
tion of God's green earth ! 

I write this article for the benefit of the Peo- 
ple who have their homes all over the broad land 
--^and especially people in moderate circumstan- 
ces—for the "common people" are the class who 
suffer most when disappointed by a change in 
location, and my sympathy naturally goes out to 
them in preference to the wealthy class, who are 
more able, and can better afford to endure revers- 
es and disappointments. 



150 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Let me illustrate: 

"A man from our neighborhood went to Cali- 
fornia several years ago, and in a short time, he 
struck "pay dirt"— came home rich, and bought 
the best farm in the county !" 




Reader, you have no doubt heard about that 
man — of course you have. He lived, not only in 
our neighborhood, but also in your neighborhood. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 151 

In fact, that same man, or another man just like 
him, lives, or has lived in almost every neigh* 
borhood East of the Missouri river— and I take 
it for granted that you have heard all about him. 
But did you ever hear anything about those fifty 
men who went from "our respective neighbor- 
hoods' '■ to California, and struck a different kind 
of dirt — and did not make a fortune worth a cent, 
but who, on the contrary) got poorer day by day, 
and would have starved to death, had not the 
charitable institutions of San Francisco kept them 
alive until their friends in the East sent them 
money to enable them to get back home? 

Those fifty men lived in my neighborhood and 
also in yoursl But history and real estate agents, 
and even the festive newspaper — aye, and society 
too, have been peculiarly silent in regard to the 
sad fate of those poor, unfortunate — -misguided 
Youths. 

In many portions of the country over which I 
have traveled (in the East and West), I have ob- 
served one thing i.e., all the good things of this 
World are seldom found together. On the contra- 
ry, I have frequently found good water, plenty of 
of fire-wood and poor soil, in close communion; 
and where there is no sickness ivhatever, you may 
just set it down that nobody lives in that neigh- 
borhood!. It is my candid opinion that this is an 
unhealthy world — and very few people ever get 
out of it alive ! 



152 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The best climate in this or any other civilized 
country can generally be found in a newspaper 
or real estate office. (This is a fact that should 
be generally known). 

California, in some respects, is a queer coun- 
try. Some people, after coming here, like it very 
much, while others seem greatly disappointed — 
and consequently dissatisfied. I presume the way 
they succeed in "getting along" has much to do 
in shaping the minds of a great many individu- 
als the world over. 

Fruit of nearly every description, such as ap- 
ples, peaches, pears, plums, prunes, apricots, nec- 
tarines, grapes, oranges, lemons, figs, &c, are all 
successfully grown; English walnuts and alm- 
onds also do well. Vegetables of all kinds are air 
so grown to perfection, and attain an enormous 
size in favored localities. 

Land in favored localities is held at very high 
figures — ranging all the way from fifty to three, 
four and five hundred dollars per acre, according 
to location, quality and improvements. I have 
known small fruit ranches of five and ten acres 
each, to sell for eight hundred and even a thous- 
dollars per acre. It must, however, be remember- 
ed that such places are supposed to yield fruit to 
the amount of from one to three hundred dollars 
per acre each year. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 153 

The cheaper grades of land in the best portion 
of the State — that is, within reach of market, is, 
generally speaking, on the steep order — (set up 
edgeways), and requires considerable labor to 
clear it and bring it into proper shape for culti- 
vation. Such land can yet be had at prices rang- 
ing from ten to thirty dollars per acre. When a 
new comer — or any other man, buys cheap land 
in California, he should endeavor to keep his up- 
per lip stiffened with the encouraging reflection 
that, while he may have paid really more than 
the land is worth, be got "piles" of climate — all 
thrown in for nothing! 

I do not wish to be understood as even attempt- 
ing to write a history of any portion of California 
and its resources; and while having been over a 
considerable portion of the State from its North- 
ern part to as far South as San Buenaventura — 
forty miles North of Los Angeles, I only claim 
to be familiar with the general features of Neva- 
da, Yuba, Sacramento, Sonoma, Marin, Santa 
Clara and Santa Cruz counties; and will endeav- 
or to confine myself to such facts as have come 
under my personal observation — such as I trust 
may be of interest, and possible benefit, to t h e 
general reader — and more especially the reader 
who has never seen California. 



154 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Wood, for fuel, especially in the northern and 
central part of the State, is plentiful — the prices 
in the principal towns ranging from four to nine 
dollars per cord; transporting the wood from the 
hills and mountains is where much of the cost 
is attached. In the Southern part of the State, 
timber is much scarcer and consequently fuel is 
considerably higher-priced, but the temperature 
is warmer, and less is required* 

The kind of wood chiefly used for fuel in Cal- 
ifornia, is redwood, madrone, white oak, chapar- 
ral roots, fir and live oak, Redwood is the cheap- 
est, chaparral roots, white oak, madrone and fir 
come next in order, live oak being considered the 
best. 

The counties bordering the Sea, as far South 
as Monterey, contain immense bodies of redwood 
timber, which produces the finest quality of lum- 
ber for building purposes, also, shingles, pickets, 
shakes, rails and posts. Having been through the 
most extensive forests of Sonoma and Santa Cruz 
counties, I am fully impressed with the idea that 
some day, not far distant, redwood timber will be 
as valuable property as the State contains — al- 
though some individuals seem to think the sup- 
ply is inexhaustible. But when the fact is taken 
into consideration that an army of sturdy wood- 
men are constantly engaged in chopping in this 
timber, and hundreds of big saw-mills are cut- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 155 

ting into it night and day— keeping ships, rail- 
road trains, and countless teams constantly em 4 
ployed in transporting it North, South, East and 
West, it is not difficult to realize the fact, that 
redwood timber will yet be an object sought af- 
ter in California. In fact, it is already steadily 
increasing in value. The soil in which the red^ 
wood trees flourish, is generally, if not always, of 
a superior quality; and the water in their vicin- 
ity, is always pure, cool and delicious. 

Timber and building material of all kinds— al- 
so beef, pork and mutton, command about the 
same prices as in the more Eastern or Middle 
States, while butter, eggs, milk and poultry, as a 
general rule, command a higher price, Fruit and 
vegetables, as a rale, are sold by the pound; ap- 
ples, peaches, pears and grapes, ranging from one 
to three cents per pound, 

Mechanics wages range from two to four dol- 
lars per day; experienced miners receive from 
three to four dollars per day. Common laborers 
receive from one to two dollars per day, House 
rent is much the same as farther East. 

The above, I consider a pretty correct state- 
ment; and I think it costs the common laboring 
classes a trifle more to live in California than it 
does in Illinois, Iowa, Missouri or Nebraska — at 
least, such has been my experience. 



156 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Some of my California readers may take ex- 
ceptions to the above summing up 7 but I think 
the facts in the case will justify the statement — ■ 
and as I am a resident of California (and hope 
to be for some time to come), and my interests 
all being here, should be sufficient evidence that 
I have no "axe to grind." 

In speaking of the "common classes," I refer 
to those who, as a general rule, are unable to own 
land, and are compelled to labor for others — -by 
the day, week or month, to procure the necessa- 
ries of life — ^and this class (God help them), are 
to be pitied in every land. 

The common labor, for men, in California, is 
mining, farming, dairying, gardening, cultivat- 
ing orchards and vineyards, driving teams, saw- 
ing logs, chopping wood, picking fruit, <fcc.,with 
an occasional opportunity of packing your blank- 
ets and tramping in search of "something better..' 7 

I have received a great many letters from par- 
ties living East of the "Rockies/ 7 containing the 
inquiry: "What can a poor man do in Califor- 
nia?" In answer to this inquiry, I can only say: 
that at this writing, the impression seems to be 
prevalent on this coast, that, owing to the pres- 
ence of so many Chinese, with their cheap labor 
and economical mode of living — all the poor la- 
boring classes of white people in this sunny land 
are doomed, sooner or later, to suffer the pangs 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 15? 

of starvation. If this is the case, actuated by the 
spirit of charity, I would respectfully advise our 
"poor man" in the East to remain where he is — «■ 
at any rate, until the Chinese have abandoned 
the Pacific coast, 

My solution of the Chinese question is just the 
same as that of any other evil: Stop patronizing 
and supporting an evil, and that evil will soon 
cease to exist in your midst. 

The climate of California is Immense— &t any 
rate, I have been so informed by a particular and 
highly esteemed friend of my wife's uncle. Well, 
it's a fact, all the same* Tornadoes, wind-storms, 
snow and thunder and lightning are of very rare 
occurrence. In many portions of the State, there 
is scarcely wind enough during the entire year 
to blow a straw hat off a man's head — -that is, of 
course, if he is the right kind of a man. 

During the year there are perhaps, as many as 
three hundred bright clear days; during the re- 
mainder, it is either raining or liable to rain. 

There are but two seasons in California: — the 
Dry season and the Rainy season. 

The rainy season usually commences in No- 
vember, and continues at intervals until March 
or April. Grain is sowed any time from October 
to April, according to the season. Plenty of rain 
in November, December, January and February, 
insures good crops. 



158 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The average rain-fall in San Francisco for the 
past thirty-five years has been about thirteen and 
one-half inches, varying from five inches (in '51 
and '52), to twenty-eight inches (in '61 and '62), 

Flowers bloom and plants of nearly every va- 
riety grow and nourish in the open air the year 
'round; and vegetables of all kinds can always be 
had — fresh from the gardens. 

In many portions of California, the scenery is 1 
grandly magnificent^ and beautiful beyond des- 
cription; and this, with the genial climate, has 
done much to cause the tourist and home-seeker 
to set their faces in the direction of these storied 
shores of the Western Sea. But the contemplat- 
ing emigrant— especially with limited means at 
his disposal, must bear in mind the fact, that 
Scenery and Climate alone, are "mighty" poor 
food for a hungry family. Of course, it may do 
for awhile, but for a steady diet, baked beans -will 
beat scenery two to one 1 This is partly the Auth^ 
or's opinion. 

For me to attempt to give the reader a full and 
complete description of California, in regard to 
her natural resources:— her wonderful produc- 
tions—the mighty forests, the immense mining 
industries, the enchanting scenery and bewilder- 
ing climate — would be somewhat, like an eleph- 
ant trying to climb to the Moon on a cobweb lad- 
der, or like & poor man trying to make himself 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 159 

popular in a wealthy and aristocratic neighbor- 
hood — or like the editor of a country newspaper 
pleasing all his patrons. Those things are all to 
be classed among the impossibilities * 
It is well known that California is rich in min* 
eral resources; but the "flush" days for the com- 
mon miner have long since passed away* 

The big claims that pay "thousands" are con- 
trolled by capitalists, who must necessarily be 
wealthy in order to work the mines successfully; 
and now it is the same in California as it is in 
other countries :— the unfortunate many, work at 
low wages for the fortunate few. 

The counties bordering the coast, I consider as 
the most suitable for homes. Wheat, oats and 
barley are raised in immense quantities — and in 
fact, almost everything that can be raised in any 
country , can be successfully grown here. 

The orange groves of Southern California are 
yielding handsome revenues to their fortunate 
owners; and the vineyards— scattered over the 
State, will at no distant day, equal and perhaps 
surpass the famous regions of the Rhine; while 
orchards — on the mountain tops, on the hill-sides 
and in the valleys, bend beneath their burdens 
of delicious fruits, that find a hearty welcome in 
every market of the civilized globe* 



160 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

But of course, kind reader, this is the bright 
side of the picture. All these good things are 
here, but it takes money — and lots of it, to buy a 
good revenue-paying home in California! And 
while it is true that the soil in portions of Cali- 
fornia is capable of produciug as much as eighty 
bushels of wheat to the acre, it must also be borne 
in mind that at least three-fifths of the entire 
State does not contain enough genuine soil to 
produce second-grade dog fennel or respectable 
cactus. 

A great many old residents say: "The climate 
isn't like it used to be — the soil doesn't produce 
so well — the rainy season cannot be depended on, 
and disease, too, with its pale and shadowy forms 
is creeping in, gaining a foot-hold in the lovely 
valleys — along the hill-sides, and on the mount- 
ains of this classic land." 

How all this is, I will not say, for I have of- 
ten heard similar complaints in States East of 
California — -for there are grumblers everywhere. 

Some people seem to forget what has been, and 
are harder to please as they, grow older. Few of 
us truly appreciate the blessings of to-day, and 
seldom know when we are at home. Home! How 
I have learned to love that word, as I look back 
over the homeless wastes through which my rest- 
ive feet have wandered. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 161 

Although far advanced in the walks of civili- 
sation, yet, of the world's teeming millions, how 
few there are who know how to be happy— or if 
they do know, how few utilize their knowledge by 
striving to secure the priceless boon? 

Reader in the far East, if you are a poor man> 
let me impress the fact upon your mind, that it 
is a very risky business to move with a family-, 
two thousand miles in search of "something bet- 
ter," at least, without first taking a look over the 
field. I have tried it Four different times, and I 
ought to be tolerably well posted on the subject. 
But it does not cost much to travel. Paying for 
your tickets is what takes the money! 

Of one fact I am perfectly assured, and that is: 
During the past twelve years, I have scattered a 
snug little fortune in cash, between Omaha, Ne- 
braska and San Buenaventura, California, and 
have nothing to show for that cash except some 
old Railroad and Steamboat receipts, showing 
when and where a certain individual (well known 
to the Writer), had paid so much, for freight on 
household goods, printing material, Etc., Etc. — 
Yes, I have something else left to remind me of 
my scattered fortune -.—experience ! I have "piles" 
of that, and by giving the public the benefit of it, 
if one poor family can be kept from squandering 
a home — which took years of toil to make — as I 
have done, I will -look back with pleasure, upon 
at least that portion of my life's labors. 



162 BETWEEN THE TIDES, 

Rich or Poor, a contented mind is better than 
Gold. It is almost everything worth living for in 
this world. It is the gate- way to Health , Wealth 
and Happiness, 
The jonrney to California has disappointed and 
financially ruined more people than it has ever 
enriched, satisfied or bettered. And I feel justified 
in saying, that he who leaves a good home East 
of the Rocky mountains, with a heavy heart— a 
discontented mind and a restless, roving dispo- 
sition, basing his move upon the expectation of 
bettering his condition, will rarely, if ever, find 
on the Pacific coast, that which he seeketh — for 
"All that Glitters is not Gold." 






SITTING BULL REVIEWS THE SITUATION 
THE DA Y BEFORE CHRISTMAS. 

Children of the West: Listen 
to the voice of your Chief, It is 
Sitting Bull that speaks* 

The Thomashawk is buried— 
the healing aroma of the calum- 
et floats over the camp* It has 
been many Moons since I have 
addressed you in festive words, 
but the Christmas time is upon 
us, and Sitting Bull don't care for incidental ex- 
penses, 

To-day we stand mid the mouldering ruins of 
a dying year — and not one of us can help it! 

The "sere and yellow leaf" is 'round about our 
camp, The nights of our discontent and scarcity 
of Government blankets hover near. 

Many of us have passed over the "summit," 
and are gradually nearing the Western horizon 
of our earthly existence. Many Summers ago, we 
Were children, and hailed the approach of the 
Holidays with delight* Since that time, many 



164 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



Suns have risen and set; and we have wandered 
from the yellow waters of the Mississippi to the 
sands of the Pacific, We have grown old, but a 
host of children play around our wigwams to- 
day. Let us remember them when we go home 
to-night. Let us fill up every little stocking in the 
camp. It will make the papoose happy. It will 
make us better Indians. It will bring us closer to 
the Stars. It will make the Sun shine brighter, 
It will please your Chief, for he was once a child. 
Children of the Occident: — 'my talk is nearly 
ended. The spirit of Santa Claus urges me to 
close, for — 



Soon it will be Christmas day, 
And my heart's so nearly full 

Of Good Will to my fellow-men, 
It "gets away" with Sitting BulL 



CALIFORNIA AND THE EAST, 

To-night, as I sat thinking, 

Of the difference in this clime) 
And that of other countries, 

My thoughts flowed into rhyme* 
In the East, cold winds are blowing, 

And snows are drifting high, 
While poverty's child is shivering, 

'Neath a cheerless winter sky, 

From the "Rocky's" rugged ranges, 
* To Atlantic's flowing tides- 
Through all that famous country, 

Where the Mississippi glides— 
In every City, town and hamlet, 

With snow and ice on every hand, 
There's a shivering and a shaking, 

Over in that frozen land, 

There sits the "old inhabitant," 

In the country village store, 
Telling his forty-seventh lie : — s 

"It was never half so cold before!" 
The Storm-King waves his sceptre, 

Winds blow at his command; 
And fires burn down while coal goes up j 

Over in that frozen land. 



166 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

But here in California, 

The grass is always green, 
And flowers of brilliant colors, 

On every Jiand are seen ; 
Wild birds are singing sweetly, 
. '. As they flit from tree to tree, 
And brooks go rippling merrily, 
On their journey to the Sea, 

The air is soft and balmy— 

The skies are bright and clear, 
And the "Winter of our discontent/ 7 

Is "glorious Summer 7 ' here! 
And, sitting here to-night, I wave 

My hat, with loving hand — 
To all the shivering dwellers in 

The famous frozen land. 

Los Gatos, California, 
February 5th, 1884. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF SHILOH, 

A SKETCH FROM MEMORY* 

How Time Flies 1 It has been Twenty-threk 
years ago, and yet it seems but a few days, since 
that wild hurricane of death swept over the great 
camp* 

On the 6th and 7th of Aprii, 1862, one of the 
most fierce and bloody battles of the Great Re- 
bellion was fought. We refer to the battle of Shi- 
loh — also familiarly known as the battle of Pitts- 
burg Landing ; and every year, when the 6th and 
7th of April comes around, fancy leads me back 
to the historic spot; and the thrilling scenes con- 
nected with that eventful field, grow fresher in 
my memory as the years glide by, 

I remember the great fleet of steam-boats that 
moved up the Tennessee river in the latter part of 
March, and tied up to the shore in the vicinity 
of Pittsburg Landing, This convoy of boats start- 
ed from Savannah, (a small village about eight or 
nine miles below the Landing), where for several 
days they had been concentrating, 



168 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

If I remember aright, there were nearly one 
hundred transports, each one carrying from five 
hundred to one thousand soldiers* These boats 
contained the flower of the Union Army of the 
West; and as they wended their way to their des- 
tination, no grander sight was ever witnessed on 
the waters of that beautiful river* 

The grand array of steamers, the bright uni- 
form, the glistening bayonets, gleaming sabres— 
the inspiring strains of martial music, and that 
mighty array—over whose veteran legions, the 
glorious ensign of our Country proudly floated — ■ 
all served to form a panorama such as has sel- 
dom been witnessed in a life-time. 

I remember our "going into camp 5 ' away out 
in the fields and upon the hills and slopes above 
the river— the camp of the Grand Army extend- 
ing from right to left for the distance of nearly 
five miles, the flanks resting nearer to the river, 
while from the Landing to the front and centre 
of the army the distance was in the neighbor- 
hood of from four to six miles, (This interval be- 
tween the army and the river was greatly dimin- 
ished before the sun set on Sunday evening, Ap- 
ril 6th). 

I remember the long trains of artillery (heavy 
siege guns and field batteries), and the clouds 
of cavalry, coming from Savannah, and taking 
their position in the camp. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES, 169 

At this camp tho army was to remain for a few 
days in order to reat and mak© the* necesB.ary 
preparation! for a grand advance against Corinth, 
Mississippi-- distant a little over twenty miles, 

This was only a sht>rt time after the fall of 
Fort Donalson; and never was an army more ju- 
bilant 02 confident in its strength and superiority 
than was the army of the Tennessee as it basked 
beneath the waving folds of the <! old flag,*' in that 
grand encampment on the hills above the Ten- 
nessee river, opposite Pittsburg Landing-, during 
those first few days of April, 1862— none dream- 
ing that death was lurking so near* No one 
seemed to think, that before many hours more 
Went by, the Sun, the Moon and the Stars would 
be looking down upon that great camp— looking 
down upon the pallid faces and mangled forms 
of twenty thousand dead, dying and wounded 
soldiers ! 

I remember the grand review that took place 
(occupying the greater part of three days), April 
3rd, 4th and 5th-. Such a review has seldom 
been witnessed on American soih That army of 
the Tennessee represented a force of between six* 
ty and seventy thousand men^including caval- 
ry — with a full complement of Artillery, consist- 
ing of siege guns and field batteries r* 

* Although I am not prepared to prove it, yet at the time, it was! 
the general impression in camp, that the Union army had more 
than three hundred pieces of Artillery on the field of Sliiloh. 



170 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The respective Brigades and Divisions were 
commanded by men who were familiar with the 
art of war — for those gallant divisions were led, 
the first day on that fated field by Generals, Sher- 
man, W. H. L. Wallace, Prentiss, Logan, Hurl- 
burt, McClernand and Smith — all under the com- 
mand of General U. S. Grant; and on the sec- 
ond day of the fight they were aided by Generals, 
Lew Wallace, McCook, Crittenden and Nelson 
with their respective divisions — under the chief 
command of General Buell. What army, either 
before or since, can show a braver or more skill- 
ful leadership? 

I remember the gala appearance of the camp— 
the Soldiers all busily employed in making prep- 
arations for the expected move against Corinth, 
at which place it was generally understood that 
the Confederate army was concentrated — 1 i 1 1 1 e 
thinking that the Southern host, even then, was 
massed in battle array, only a few miles distant 
— yet such was the case. 

The morning of the 6th came around; and just 
about sunrise, a few random shots were heard a- 
way out on the "front." But the "boys" (many 
of whom were getting ready for breakfast) said : 
"It is the picket guard emptying their guns." 
But the firing continued— and increased as it con- 
tinued—and a few minutes later, a cavalry-man, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES, 171 



mounted on a foaming steed, dashed through our 
camp, startling us with the announcement that 
the entire Rebel army was coming down upon us 
in three heavy lines of battle— "and," he added, 
"General Prentiss with nearly all of his command 
has just been captured," And then, the hurried, 
half whispered words: "a surprise!" * flew from 
man to man, and soon the ominous sound of the 
"long roll" could be heard away out on the front, 
the drummers of one division after another tak- 
ing up the battle call, until the dread notes rang 
out from one end of the camp to the other, and 
but a few moments had elapsed ere the Suddenly 
awakened soldiers were "falling in" and 

"Swiftly forming in the ranks of War," 

and half an hour later, the Army of the Tennes- 
see presented the front of 

"Battle's magnificently stern array.'' 

I remember hearing the orders that passed 
from regiment to regiment— orders that were 
plain enough to be sufficiently understood by the 
common soldiers to satisfy them that a terrible 
battle was coming on; and but a short time suf- 
ficed to reveal the fact that the combined army 
of the South, under the command of Generals, 
Beauregard and Albert Sydney Johnson, was 

* I thought so at the time— haVe thought so ever since— and yet 
believe— and all opinions to the contrary (no matter from What 
source they come), will never make me cease thinking and believ- 
ing that the Union Army was completely surprised by the Kebels, 
at Shiloh on Sunday morning, April 6th, 1862* 



172 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

sweeping down upon us like an avalanche, crush- 
ing everything before it, 

I remember the hissing, screaming shells, the 
booming artillery, the incessant crash of musket- 
ry, and the horrible rumble and roar of the fierce 
conflict, as it deepened in the centre and thun- 
dered on the flanks, 

I remember the thrilling events of that terrific 
day: — -the furious storm of shot and shell — the 
crash of falling timber — -the swift capture of en- 
tire batteries — -the ghastly heaps of the dead and 
dying, and the sad moans, shrieks and supplica- 
tions of the wounded — >and all the time, the Na- 
tional army was being pushed slowly, but stead- 
ily, back towards the river, 

I remember, about three o'clock in the after- 
noon of that terrible day, I beheld a vast portion 
of that mighty army of the Tennessee, shattered, 
broken a n d panic-stricken — -rushing madly, 
wildly, in the direction of the river, with the 
storm of death closely following at their heels; 
and on the bank of the Tennessee river, I remem- 
ber the heroic efforts, on the part of gallant offi- 
cers, to rally this disorganized host, and the fierce 
and stubborn fighting that took place, when the 
panic-stricken soldiers found that the river cut 
off all retreat. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 173 

Those were the hours, during that first day's 
awful fight, when men from Illinois, Indiana, Io- 
wa, Kentucky, Ohio, Wisconsin and Michigan) 
with bated breath, looked into each other's faces, 
and repeated the oft-asked question: " Where is 
Buell and his army?" 

Two more dreadful hours went by— 4iours oil 
Which the fate of this Government seemed to 
hang trembling in the balance; the broken hosts 
of the Union had been forced back almost to the 
brink of the river— the hills and ravines Were 
deluged With blood, and literally heaped with the 
dead and dying, and the Rebel host, flushed with 
apparent victory, wei?e still advancing step by 
step, 

At this critical moment, in fancy, I can yet see 
the two gun-boats— >Tyler and Lexington, steam- 
ing swiftly to the rescue, anchoring at a favora- 
ble point, the smoke-blackened gunners stripped 
for action, and soon after, letting loose their 
"grim dogs of war/' raining a perfect storm of 
shot and shell on the advancing Rebels. Yet, on 
they came, confident of securing a great victory, 
that seemed almost within their grasp I 

But look! Just across the river, through the 
murky clouds of battle, the flags, glistening bay- 
onets and the long, dark lines of Infantry, pro- 
claim the joyful fact that Buell's long4ooked-for 
army is near at hand — an army of thirty thous- 
and fresh soldiers are hurrying to "Uncle Sam's" 
assistance! That Was indeed, a supreme moment, 



174 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

and one never to be forgotten by the soldiers who 
stood on that bloody ground. 

The glad news flew like the wind all over that 
vast field; thousands of soldiers in Grant's army 
who had lost hope, once more "rallied 'round the 
Flag," and a shout went up from the Army of the 
Tennessee that rose above the din of battle, and 
shook the eternal hills. 

The remnants of Grant's army were rallied — ■ 
the tide of battle was checked, and protected by 
a terrific rain of lead from the gun-boats, Buell's 
army crossed the river, and rushed into the fight. 

Night closed over the scene, and the two hos- 
tile armies rested from their work of destruction, 
and laid down to sleep within talking distance of 
each other. But as soon as the first streaks of 
dawn heralded the approach of another day, a 
new line of battle was formed, Buell's forces tak- 
ing the advance, and the bloody conflict was re- 
opened by the Union army — ^the desperate fight 
continuing with unexampled fury until near one 
o'clock in the afternoon, when the Rebel army, 
after hours of the most desperate resistance, gave 
way, slowly and sullenly retreating to their form- 
er position at Corinth, leaving thousands of their 
dead and wounded on the field, and bearing with 
them the mangled corpse of their daring leader, 
Albert Sidney Johnson. Thus ended those two 
da}^s of terrible fighting. The field of Shiloh was 
won, and Hope marched forward with quickened 
step to the music of the Union, 




MY OLD CANOE. 

'Twas Spring— the birds were warbling 

Their wild carols all around, 
I left the home of boy-hood's years, 

For the Western country, bound, 
The sun shone bright o'er fields of green, 

As I waved my last adieu— 
And with swelling heart and dimming eyes 

I launched my Life canoe. 



176 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The deep Sea widened 'round my bark, 

Strange voices filled the air, 
Even though, with strangers on the deep, 

I knew that God was there. 
Time rolled on, and soon I stood 

On a distant Western shore — 
California's soil beneath my feet, 

And her blue sky spreading o'er. 

Two years sped by, and I awoke 

From that bright, golden dream, 
And with my old Canoe, once more, 

I pushed out in the stream. 
When angry waves and adverse wind^ 

All my efforts did deride, 
I laid my wave-worn paddle down, 

And drifted with the tide. 

My boat was shattered by the storms, 

And my hands were brown'd by toil, 
I felt sure that welcome awaited me 

Upon my native soil— 
And when I saw the dear old shore, 

Rise over the waters blue, 
I knew that a landing place was near, 

For me and my old Canoe. 

My boat now lies upon the shore 

Of Life's tempestuous stream, 
While far above the stormy heights, 

1 see the Light-House gleam. 
My last great cruise I soon must take—* 

To earth-land, bid adieu — 
Then, into the mists of unknown seas, 

I will push my old Canoe. 



CAPITAL VERSUS LABOR 

"The time will come sooner or later when Cap- 
ital and Labor will constitute the two great pow- 
ers that will stand arrayed against each other in 
these United States; and instead of being Dem- 
ocrats and Republicans, it will be the Laboring 
classes and the Capitalists." 

Sentences similar to the above, We hear almost 
every day, and while there may be some truth 
contained therein, so far as my experience goes, 
I am inclined to think , that to a greater or less 
extent, there has always been, and always will be 
a species of antagonism between capital and la- 
bor—not only in this, but in all countries — each 
party striving to gain positions and control cir- 
cumstances which will enable it to place the oth- 
er at a disadvantage, and compel an acceptance of 
the terms offered. 

Capital to a very great extent, is the result of 
labor, and the more independent the producer be- 
comes, the less the power of the capitalist over 
him. If labor is scarce in proportion to the de- 
mand, it becomes independent, and as a natural 
consequence it demands higher wages; when la- 
bor is in excess, it becomes dependent, and cap- 
ital secures its advantage by reducing wages, 



178 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The voting power is really held by the labor- 
ing classes, but circumstances, too often control 
the majority and forces them to accept the terms 
and become tbe slaves of the money power. 

The nearer these great powers are balanced f 
the better it is for the world at large, for either 
one is dependent upon the other; and let either 
representative get the "upper-hand/' every ad- 
vantage is speedily taken — -for human nature is 
human nature, everywhere. 

When the laboring classes begin to work, think 
and act for themselves — noting strictly on prin- 
ciple, keeping out of debt and living within their 
means, they will soon rear for themselves a plat- 
form, upon which they can proudly stand, and 
hold at arm's length, all the capitalists, corpora- 
tions, monopolies and "scalpers" in creation. 



mm^^^^^^ 



OUT IN THE DARK, 
THE DRUNKARD'S SOLILOQUY, 

Out in the Dark, on the Drunkard's road, 

I am trudging along the way, 
With scarcely a ray of hope beyond— 

And my hair fast turning gray. 
For years, along Life's pathway, 

I have groped in fear and doubt, 
While in the chambers of my heart, 

The Light seems going out* 

I once was deemed the "foremost man" 

In all this country 'round^ 
And called "a public benefactor" 

By the people of the town t 
Kind fortune smiled upon me, 

And left her golden mark ; 
But, too weak to stand temptation— 

I drifted in the Dark* 

I've watched my fated star grow dim, 

Till it faded from my sight— 
Amid the wreck of misspent years, 

While blacker grows the night. 
Few, (save the wretched drunkard), 

Who on troubled seas embark, 
Can ever realize what it is 

To be — out in the Dark. 



180 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The lines are deepening on my brow — 

I am "going fast" they say ; 
And the shadows thicken 'round me, 

As I stagger on my way. 
My once loved childrens' prattle, 

Heard in the family arc, 
Grows fainter in the distance-^— 

As I drift out in the Dark, 

The grass will soon be growing 

Above us all, I know ; 
But my wife and children they will be. 

Where the father cannot go. 
In a bright land "over yonder," 

They will wear a shining mark \ 
While I, the wretched drunkard, 

Will be— out in the Dark. 

I can feel my boat fast gliding 

In the shadows, cold and gray ; 
Comes again the fearful warning : — < 

I am "passing fast away." 
I can hear the billows dashing- 

Against the Stygian shore ; 
But alas ! — I see no beacon, 

To guide me safely o'er. 

Memory's waves go surging past me— 

And hark ! above the roar, 
I can hear my children calling-^- 

From the fast receding shore ; 
The "Rum Fiend," that hideous monster> 

Sounds out the dismal knell, 
That shuts me out from Heaven, 

And drags me down — to HelL 



What 1 Know About Raising Hogs. 



I have frequently been asked the question:— 
"Does it pay to raise hogs?*' I unhesitatingly an- 
swer — Of course it does. I say this because I am 
posted on the subject, at least, I have a vague 
idea that I know what I am talking about s If 
the question was asked me : Does it pay to run a 
newspaper in a small town? I might hesitate, 
and perhaps request my interlocutor to give me 
thirty days to consider the matter, and even at 
the end of that time I might not be able to give 
a decided answer; but when it comes to raising 
hogs, I wish to impress the fact upon the mind 
of the Reader that I know all about h% as the fol- 
lowing illustration will show. 

Once upon a time, riot many years ago, while 
engineering the running-gear of a small newspa- 
per in a small village in the West, and realizing 
the fact that the meat market was steadily ab- 
sorbing the principal portion of my little busin- 
ess, I resolved to erect an independent platform* 



182 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

In short, I resolved to "raise my own meat;" ac- 
cordingly I purchased two pigs, which cost me 
four dollars. At the time I made this purchase I 
had in the neighborhood of half a ton of ground 
mill-feed on hand for my cow, and while that 
mill-feed held out, the expense of keeping those 
two pigs did not amount to "a hill of beans," but 
after that was gone, I began to pay frequent vis- 
its to the mill, and also notified my subscribers 
that all who wished to, could pay their subscrip- 
tions in anything that a pig could "worry down," 
and in this manner I got even with a number of 
old delinquents. 

Time drifted by, and at the end of two months 
I killed one of my small hogs, (done the job my- 
self). I have never even tried to kill a pig since 
that time. Reader, between you and I, that pig 
was not merely killed, he was murderedl I am not 
a professional butcher. As near as I can recol- 
lect, with the aid of a shotgun, I inserted three 
charges of bird shot into that shoat's cranium, 
and wound up by sticking him at every availa- 
ble point, until finally he yielded up his young 
life, leaving me filled with regret in not having 
called in a marksman who could have brought 
him down at the second fire. The day after the 
massacre I walked by the butcher shop as in- 
dependent as the man Vander built; and thinks 
T. Mr. Butcher, it will be "a cold day" when you 



BETWEEN THE TIDES, 183 

sell the editor any more pork for the next long 
time or two to come* Vain thought! Reader, as 
sure as our National Holiday comes on the 4th 
of Juvember, we ate that entire shoat^head, feet, 
ears and all in just five days! Soon after this I 
sold the family cow, and made iarge investments 
in ground barley, ground corn, and almost every 
thing else that had any ground-work about it, for 
I was determined to make a hog out of the other 
pig. But why prolong this sad experience ? Why 
linger over the fitful dream of misguided ambi- 
tion? I will not linger* In the course of time, I 
sold the remaining shoat for eight dollars and 
seventy cents 4 Reader, let me whisper a word in 
your ear : There is money in hogs ! I know this to 
be a fact, for I put about thirty dollars into one 
pig! 



TAXATION AND CONVICT LABOR; 

As this book is principally made up of separ- 
ate sketches and miscellaneous articles, and as 
this will probably be the last book the Author 
will be guilty of "kicking off" on a job press, I 
wish to submit my humble opinion on the sub- 
ject of Taxation and Convict labor. 

The present system of taxation seems very un- 
just in many cases. As it is, the principle favors 
are given to the wealthy class, while the poor 
class receive few favors and are taxed without 
mercy. In my humble opinion no citizen whose 
capital does not exceed one thousand dollars (be 
it in land, stock or tools); should be taxed any- 
thing. One thousand dollars is a small capital 
for any man to make a decent living for himself 
and family. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 185 



There is sufficient property aside from the ab- 
ove mentioned class, if properly assessed and col- 
lected to accomplish the desired ends. There is 
no donbt in regard to this; but the trouble is, as 
a general rule, the wealthy class, the big Corpo- 
rations &c, are seldom assessed for half what 
they should be, and even then if the assessment 
does not suit them, they combat the enforcement 
of the laws, and often come out victorious. Thus 
the classes who are able to pay and who should 
be compelled to pay, get off with a light levy, 
while the poor man, who may be so fortunate as 
to be the possessor of two or three acres of land, 
is compelled to give in every item, even down to 
cow and chickens,and when tax paying day comes 
he gets no "three days of grace." 

In this age, the problem of the poor man is: 
How shall I manage to pay my taxes this year? 
The problem of the rich man and the big corpo- 
ration too often seems to be: What plan can I de- 
vise to deceive the assessor and shield my prop- 
erty from taxation? This may be plain talk. But 
where is the thinking man in this country who 
is not fully persuaded in his own mind that such 
is the case? The rich man is, and generally has 
been favored; and now why not give the poor 
man a chance, if it be no more than to lighten 
his taxation? 



186 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

I also take the position that the manner of deal- 
ing with convicts is all wrong, My idea is, when 
a man is convicted of a crime and sent to prison 
for ten or twenty years, or for life, as the case may 
be, at least one-half of his earnings should be set 
aside and paid regularly to his family (if he has 
a family) or to those who may have been depen- 
dent upon him for support* Such a course as 
this, would be humane and Christian-like; and 
the knowledge of doing something— even though 
inside the walls of a penitentiary — =to aid in the 
support of his family, would do more to soften 
that man's heart and make abetter man of him, 
than all the coarse fare and rigid prison discip- 
line that can be administered or enforced. 



:^-^M§m2?M 







P^^^^^^^nl 



MY OLD E FLAT. 



(I once had a great desire to become a member of a Brass Band ; 
and that desire was gratified, but unfortunately, I selected an "E 
flat" horn, and thirteen days afterwards, I came out — at the "little 
end," tendered my resignation, and concluded to go West). 



Show me the man in all this town, 
Or even in the country around, 
Where e'er he may be, or can be found, 

From a dandy flirt, that pride begat, 
To a man or boy of any kind — 
Who has an ample supply of wind, 

To blow my old E flat. 



Fetch 'round the lad, and I'll 'go for him,' 

I will satisfy his every whim, 

And through my paper I'll 'blow' for him, 

And on all occasions, pass 'round the hat, 
To support his family in after years, 
And keep the children from shedding tears, 

For father, who died (in E horn) so flat. 



188 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Oh ! I would like to see with my own eyes, 
The man who lives under Northern skies, 
Who wishes upon the "Air" to rise — 

Who is foolish enough, and all that, 
To tarry long with this piece of brass, 
Making a noise, resembling an ass — 

Which is all I can do on my E flat. 

There must be some reckless chap around, 
In the country, or within this town, 
In wind and limb "almighty" sound, 

That would like to "smell a rat." 
Show me the man — I'll give him a horn 
That will make him sorry he was born, 

In the days of my E flat. 

They say this is a progressive age, 
And every body has grown so sage— 
To go ahead is all the rage; 

They can all do "this and that." 
But I want to see that man "for fun," 
Who by a horn can't be out-done; 
He must be a perfect "blow" or none, 
For it will take a regular "son of a gun" 

To blow my old E flat. 






DEATH OF MRS. JOHN BROWN. 

(Copied from my Journal of March 7th, 1884). 

The widow of John Brown, of Kansas fame 
and Harper's Ferry notoriety, died in San Fran- 
cisco, California, on the 29th day of February, 
1884. She was the second wife of "old John 
Brown," and the mother of thirteen children. 
Some years ago she purchased a mountain ranch 
near Saratoga, Santa Clara County, California, 
and here she lived in a quiet, unassuming way, 
with a daughter and son-in-law, until about one 
year ago, when she sold her ranch and purchased 
a small place near Saratoga, where she lived un- 
til her last visit to San Francisco (where she went 
for medical treatment — and where she died). 

By her intimate neighbors, Mrs. Brown is spok- 
en of as a quiet, hospitable and Christian woman, 
in whom religious duty of the Puritan character 
strongly predominated, and a woman with whom 
it was a real pleasure to converse. 



190 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Her remains were conveyed to Saratoga, and 
the funeral sermon preached by the Rev. W. H, 
Cross, from the text: " Well done, good and faith- 
ful servant." 

About five hundred people attended the funer- 
al (among whom were many members of the 
Grand Army of the Republic), and followed the 
remains to the grave. 

Thus has passed away from earth, the widow 
of "old John Brown" — a name that is destined 
to live while the history of the Great Rebellion is 
read; for John Brown was certainly the first man 
to lay down his life on the altar of African liber- 
ty in the United States. His blood quickened the 
strife that soon after, deluged the land with hu- 
man gore. 

And, while we may not endorse the fanaticism 
that urged him on, we must admit that John 
Brown's action at Harper's Ferry, was the first 
blow that started the rivets from the chains that 
held four millions of human beings in bondage. 

The great Civil War, doubtless would have 
come upon us sooner or later, but John Brown's 
raid, followed by his cruel execution, precipitated 
the struggle at least twenty years in advance of 
its natural solution. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 191 

As a scrap of interesting history we give the 
following extract from that wonderfully eloquent 
speech of John Brown to the Court that senten- 
ced him to the gallows in December, 1859; and 
that is his authority for the capture of Harper's 
Ferry : 

'•'This Court acknowledges, as I suppose, the validity of the Law 
of God. I see a book kissed here, which I suppose to be the Bible, 
or, at least, the New Testament. That teaches me "that all things 
whatsoever I would that men should do unto me, I should do even 
so to them." It teaches me further, to "remember them that are 
in bonds as bound with them." I endeavored to act up to that in- 
struction. I say I am yet too young to understand that God is any 
respecter of persons. I believe that to have interfered as I have 
done — as I have always freely admitted I have done — in behalf of 
His despised poor, was not wrong but right." 

The widow of "old John Brown" rests in peace, 
and in the beautiful Spring-time, when loving 
hands are weaving garlands to decorate the graves 
of the Nation's honored dead, let no one be a- 
shamed to drop a tear of sympathy or to strew 
earth's fairest flowers on the grave where sleeps 
Marv A. Brown. 



LINES TO u TOM BROWN." 

(AN ARMY COMRADE). 

Some twenty years ago, Tom Brown, 

I struck for the Western Sea ; 
And old-time memories prompt me now, 

To write these lines to thee ; 
For, no matter where I go, dear Tom, 

I am ready to proclaim : — 
Our friendship nought on earth can break, 

And I know you'll say the same. 

Tom Brown, the years go flitting by — 

Our work will soon be done ; 
Life's battle, fought by you and I, 

Will soon be Lost or Won ! 
And with old-time recollections, 

Swelling in my heart to-night, 
I cannot refrain from asking : — 

Have we fought the Goodly fight ? 

Oft I think the World is changing, 

And the snares in this great land, 
For weak and wayward mortals, 

Grow harder to withstand ; 
But oft our mode of living, 

Converts Morning into Noon : — 
Makes Summer months to flee away, 

And Winter come too soon. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



193 



Tom Brown, while cherished memories, 

Flood my heart with golden light, 
Days, months, — aye, years of that olden time, 

Spread out before my sight — 
The tented field, the bivouac fires, — 

The tempest's angry frown — 
And a cabin that sheltered two old friends : — 

Myself and Thomas Brown. 



Though we may meet no more on earth, 

As in the days of yore, 
They tell me there's a Better Land, 

Upon a Golden Shore ! 
And my heart grows strong within me, 

As adown Life's stream I row — 
For in that bright land I hope to meet, 

Tom Brown — of the "Long ago." 



CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 

As the Christmas chimes peal out, we hear the 
merry shouts of the boys, the light ringing laugh- 
ter of the girls, and the friendly, hearty greeting 
and cordial interchange of good feeling among 
the older folks. The Holidays seem to possess 
the rare charm of unlocking the icy channels and 
frozen natures of civilized nations, harmonizing 
the great human family, strengthening our good 
resolutions, making better men and better wom- 
en all over the land. 

Almost all of us have golden memories stamp- 
ed upon the Christmas pages of long ago; and 
when our thoughts go back to our dear old fath- 
ers and mothers and our kind and loving brothers 
and sisters, as in fancy, we pass down the shad- 
owy aisle of retrospection — above the ripples of 
busied memory, we catch the echoes of those old 
Christmas Chimes, and over the dim horizon of 
that golden age, the cheerful glow of the Christ- 
mas fires casts its hallowed light. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



195 



Reader, while summing up the many bless- 
ings which the Giver of all good has so bounti- 
fully bestowed upon us, let us thank Him for 
casting our lines in a land where the cheerful 
chimes of Christmas ring out once a year; and 
when the shadows of night have closed around 
your Christmas pillow, may you feel deep down 
in your heart that "Peace on Earth and Good 
Will to all mankind" — even such as our Saviour 
taught nearly two thousand years ago. 




196 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



OUR FAVORITE SALUTATORY. 

(As I have had the good fortune or misfortune to publish a 
newspaper in some half a dozen different places, I insert my old fa- 
vorite and often used salutatory, having "fired" it off at the public 
— East and West — with good results. I give it a place in this book 
as I wish to preserve it for future reference, and possibly for future 
use.) 

To the good people of this town and vicinity, 
and to all others into whose hands this paper 
may come, the editor lifts his battered tile from 
his bald forehead and makes his most respectful 
bow. In our salutatory we will endeavor to be 
brief and to the point. 

We come comparatively a stranger in your 
midst. We bring no reference to offer, nor do 
we wish any save what our efforts may justly en- 
title us to. 

We bring a new and extensive printing outfit 
with us, and it belongs exclusively to us. 

We come determined to solve what is consid- 
ered by some individuals a debatable question 
as to whether or no this town is able and willing 
to support a weekly newspaper; and although we 
have been warned of the quicksands, up-grades 
and slippery places that so thickly be-strew the 
pathway of the man whose ambition prompts 
him to commence the publication of a newspa- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 197 

per in a small town, we launch our craft with the 
comforting assurance that "the battle is not al- 
ways with the strong nor the race to the swift." 

We have an abiding faith in the combination 
of industry, economy and perseverence; and our 
faith is strengthened by thoughts of the glorious 
future that surely await all legitimate branches 
of business in this classic region. 

We propose to publish a newspaper devoted to 
home interests — to aid in building up this town 
and the region round about, to advance agricul- 
tural and manufacturing interests, and all other 
professions, institutions and branches of indust- 
ry that will tend to create prosperity and pro- 
mote the general welfare of community. 

We do not expect to please every body. That 
is a very difficult task to perform. There was a 
newspaper man once who pleased every body — 
but that was a long time ago, and that editor — 
he died, and when we get to pleasing every body, 
we want to die too. 

We want every man, woman and child in this 
entire neighborhood to come in early and sub- 
scribe. Our paper will do you good. No well reg- 
ulated family can afford to be without it. It will 
drive away sorrow. It will banish pain. It will 
kill rats. It will cure corns. It is death on bed- 
bugs and fleas — and only Two-and-a-half a year ! 



198 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



RUNNING A NEUTRAL PAPER. 

One among the hardest things for a poor man 
to do is to publish a newspaper, that is supposed 
to be Neutral in Politics, especially in a small 
town, where it takes the help of every man and 
woman in the vicinity to keep the " machine" in 
running order. In such cases it is difficult for 
any one to maintain the spirit of true indepen- 
dence that should be manifested by all American 
citizens; yet under such circumstances, the fin- 
ancial condition of the poor editor too often ren- 
ders it necessary for him to be decidedly accom- 
modating with his politics. 

It is a difficult task to ride fourteen horses at 
one time, but that is just about what the editor- 
in-chief of a "one-horse" paper often has to do or 
get "throwed." I have tried it, and I hope that 
all of my "victims," in the goodness of their 
hearts, will forgive me. 

It is a little this way. A Republican candidate 
walks into our office, hands us five dollars and 
says: "Insert my card in your paper; give it a 
conspicuous position, and give me a rousing send- 
off; and after I am elected I will do the hand- 
some thing by you." We say (after pocketing 
th&t five), "All right, my honored friend; after 
my paper comes out this week, your miserable 
opponent will stand no show whatever," and then 
we sit down and write him up for all he is worth. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 199 

A few days after this, a Democratic candidate 
walks in, lays his five dollars upon the altar of 
unadulterated patriotism and says: "Mr. Editor, 
I want you to insert my card ; give me a good 
square notice, and after election I expect to be 
able to do something for you that will enable you 
to remove to the County Seat and establish a 
daily journal." After shoving his little jive into 
our faded jeans (to keep company with its broth- 
er who had gone in before), we say: "All right, 
all right, old friend, I will fix you up in good 
shape — and don't you forget it, and if you can't 
"get away" with that Republican in a fair race, 
it will be "good-bye country," and then we sit 
down and write him up for more than he is worth. 

Soon after, in comes a Prohibition candidate, 
throws down two-and-a-half and says: "I am out 
for office ; I want my card inserted at the head of 
your editorial column. We are going to make a 
clean sweep this fall, and for the sake of the cause, 
I want you to "whoop 'er up." After coaxing that 
two-and-a-half into our pocket, to become the 
companion of the money of the 'publican and 
sinner, we say: "All right, and if you will prom- 
ise, after you are elected, to give the editor of 
this paper the job of digging up all the grape- 
vines in the State, you can rely upon this paper 
to whoop things up generally, for it claims to be 
a "whoopist" from Hoop-pole township." 



200 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

The next caller is an Independent candidate, 
who says: "I want you to insert my card — top of 
the column — here's two dollars, I'll hand you the 
balance next Saturday ; I shall also expect a big 
"blow" in your next issue." I absorbed his du- 
cats, saying: "Correct, my valued friend,your card 
will be duly inserted, and as to the "blow," when 
my paper comes out you shall hear the voice of 
a hurricane sounding your praises and extolling 
your virtues. You are as good as elected now." 

So goes the world. Each candidate leaves our 
office, confident that he has a strong ally in one 
paper at least; and each one leaves the editor feel- 
ing remarkably good and excessively guilty in 
the "five-part act" he is endeavering to perform 
— "all for the sake of Eliza;" and while he may 
not be able to materially assist all the candidates 
who have so generously given him a share of 
their patronage, he generally does the best he can 
to harm them as little as possible. 

I will conclude this article by saying, that it 
is my earnest desire to see the principles of jus- 
tice and right triumph, and earnestly hope that 
men will vote upon every occasion, to maintain 
those principles which they conscientiously be- 
lieve to be RiCxHT — and may the Lord have mercy 
upon that man, who for any consideration what- 
ever, votes contrary to his honest opinion. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 201 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 

The following is my little address, which was read in the Ceme- 
tery at Los Gatos, California, May 30th, 1884. I insert it as a slight 
tribute of love and respect for the "boys who wore the blue." 

Comrades of the Grand Army of the Republic 
and fellow citizens: You are all familiar with the 
object that calls us together in this quiet resting 
place of the dead, this pleasant Spring morning. 

Almost twenty years have passed away since 
the last rebel flag was lowered before the victori- 
ous armies of the Union, and the white-winged 
angel of Peace found a welcome in every valley, 
and on every mountain, hill and plain in this 
Republic; and you have not forgotten how our 
hearts thrilled with new-born rapture when the 
glad news flashed from ocean to ocean, telling us 
the cruel war was over and the Union preserved. 

Soon after the great struggle, our noble Gov- 
ernment set apart the 30th of May as a National 
Holiday, dedicated to the memory of the fallen 
heroes who died that the Nation might live; and 
for the past seventeen years the beautiful custom 
of strewing flowers on the graves of our dead sol- 
diers has been annually observed with a regular- 
ity and devotion that teaches the lesson that pat- 
riotism and loyalty are yet revered and held sa- 
cred by the American people. 



202 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Three old soldiers have found here, their last 
resting place in this silent village of the dead, 
and while we, as comrades may not have known 
them personally, it is enough for us to know that 
they all kept step to the music of the Union. 
One followed the flag over the burning sands of 
the Rio Grande, in the strife with Mexico — the 
others rallied to the defense of the Union in the 
last great struggle — all were loyal soldiers — and 
that is enough for comrades of the Grand Army 
of the Republic to know; and while the scenes of 
their child-hood and the friends of their youth 
may be in the far East, near where Atlantic's bil- 
lows roll, we, their surviving comrades find the 
grass growing on their graves under the sunny 
skies of California; and our soldier hearts are stir- 
red with those memories that stretch from the 
first call to arms, to the muster in, the camp, the 
weary march, the grim battle-field, the gloomy 
hospital and prison pen — even to the very gates 
of death — only, we trust, to find their echoes in 
Heaven. 

Comrades of the old crusade : the Grand Army 
of the Republic will soon be no more. The last 
echo of the tread of that mighty host that once 
shook the soil of this Republic from the St. Law- 
rence to the Gulf, will soon be hushed, as the last 
survivor glides into the shadows of the Great 
Beyond; yet believe me when I say, the glori- 
ous deeds achieved by the Grand Army of the 
Republic will live and be honored, long after the 
towering monuments of man's architectural skill, 
which to-day stands firm, shall have mouldered 
into oblivion. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 203 



MY FOREIGN POLICY. 

The United States of America is certainly the 
greatest Republic that has ever existed, and I 
am proud to be able to write these words; but 
with all its greatness and grandeur, I am inclin- 
ed to think that in some respects, this Govern- 
ment is too magnanimous — too generous to do 
itself justice; and especially does this seem true 
in regard to the broad invitation to the inhabit- 
ants of the Old World to come here and make 
their homes, and do just as they please after they 
get here, where they are allowed to act upon the 
principle that "this is a free country;" and this 
generous invitation from "Uncle Sam" has cer- 
tainly been taken advantage of by a class of 
people who are of no benefit to any country, and 
whose presence and influence (especially when 
the right of suffrage has been obtained), is much 
greater, and far more dangerous (if used in the 
wrong direction), in a Republic than in a Mon- 
archy; and to remedy this evil, I would hail with 
delight, the passage of a law that would compel 
all foreigners, before landing upon American soil 
for the purpose of making their homes here, to 
furnish a reliable certificate for good character — 
and that would be no difficult task to impose up- 
on any good citizen. 



204 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

If this was done, it would have the effect to 
prevent Asia and Europe from sweeping their 
jail dust and much of their filthy slum and gar- 
bage of humanity into this country; for there is 
a prevailing opinion that when a man gets to be 
too vile and too mean to live either in Asia or in 
Europe, he is shipped to the United States; and 
he comes for what? To bid defiance to our laws, 
to poison society with his vile presence — to help 
to swell the criminal record, and often to dictate 
with insolent tongue as to how this Government 
shall be conducted. 

Good citizens — be they rich or poor, should al- 
ways receive a hearty welcome, but for one, I am 
sorry to see this great and generous Republic be- 
ing made the resorvoir for the trash of all other 
nations. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 205 

WEEK DAY SERMON. 

"Come and let us Reason together." 

This Country is pretty well represented with 
Churches, and new religious organizations are 
springing into existence almost every year. In a 
word, there is no lack of Churches, but is genu- 
ine Christianity gaining ground? Is the World 
growing better? These are questions that should 
engage the attention of all thinking minds. 

I do not claim to be a model of Christian pi- 
ety, neither am I an Infidel: on the contrary, I 
am a firm believer in the kind of Christianity 
that does Christian work. But it is painfully 
true, and greatly to be regretted, that the practice 
of a great many professing Christians is too often 
at variance with their preaching and profession, 
and while this does not injure the true faith, it 
certainly has a tendency to c h e c k its progress 
throughout the world. (This article refers to no 
particular place or locality, but applicable to all). 

More work and less talking, more charity and 
less style, is what the Church needs to-day. 

Instead of getting together in little select sets 
and circlesfind rehearsing the stereotyped phrase, 
such as: "What a pity it is this or that neighbor 
is such a wicked sinner," would it not be better, 
my Christian reader, if you would mix up a lit- 



206 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

tie with the rude and wicked elements — take a 
walk now and then among the wrecks of frail hu- 
manity and try what a little genuine assistance 
will accomplish. 

When you see a man — a neighbor — "going to 
the bad," do not go and tell all creation about it, 
and then watch him from your window as he 
passes by, but appoint yourself "a committee of 
one" to go to his assistance and do your best to 
rescue him ; and if you find that you have no in- 
fluence over that man, then hunt up some one 
who has, and in nine cases out of ten, good re- 
sults will follow. Do not stand aloof for fear that 
some of your "set" may discover you in bad com- 
pany, for if you wish to reform depraved human- 
ity you must go where it is. Christ was found 
in company with publicans and sinners, and we 
have no evidence to show that He was ashamed 
of it. If your field or garden is foul with weeds, 
you cannot talk the weeds out at long range. 

Temperance Organizations are very good in 
their way, if they are blessed with a good, active 
working force, but "red tape" alone will never 
check the tide of Intemperance. 

Faith is a good thing to have, especially if it is 
based upon Truth and Justice, but faith without 
works is dead. And the same may be said of the 
Christian religion. If it is practiced, it is the 
grand causeway that leads from Earth to Heav- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 207 

en; but if our religion is all profession and no 
practice, then it availeth nothing. 

Take the civilized world over, there seems to 
be a perfect deluge in preaching, and a most fear- 
ful drought in practice ! 

As a rule, we love to see new and handsome 
Church edifices erected in our midst. We also 
love to hear the deep tones of the grand organ 
helping to swell the chorus of praise to God. We 
love to see our Church buildings fitted up with 
everything necessary to render them comforta- 
ble and attractive : — frescoed walls and decorated 
ceilings, fine carpets, elegant pews and brilliant 
chandeliers, and an eloquent minister who is 
well worth two thousand dollars a year (and who 
wouldn't preach Christ for a cent less), and ev- 
erything else to correspond. This is all very nice 
and would be all right if it was in accordance to 
the example that Christ left for His followers; but 
do these continued efforts to "lay our neighbor's 
Church in the shade," have a tendency to please 
God and spread the Gospel? That is the ques- 
tion, and it is a serious one. And when the un- 
ceasing Fair and Festival is held and the untir- 
ing hat goes around for the benefit of the new 
organ, new window-curtains, the choir, or a new 
carpet, or to have the pews re-painted, or for a 
"little more stylish" decoration, or a softer cush- 
ioned seat for the new minister, or to send an- 



208 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



other missionary to the far-away heathen — I of- 
ten imagine that I can hear the plaintive voice 
of some poor neighbor's child asking for food and 
raiment; and especially when the the contribu- 
tion box goes around for the benefit of the heath- 
en in far-off lands, I feel like exclaiming: Merci- 
ful God, open the eyes, ears and hearts of this 
people, that they may be constrained to scatter 
more of their surplus cash among the ignorant, 
starving, naked and destitute, who can be found 
at all times — everywhere — all over this Gospel 
lighted land of ours — for "the poor we have al- 
ways with us." And although he may have little 
else to boast of, he who hath Charity for his poor 
and needy neighbor, is almost a Christian. 






BETWEEN THE TIDES. 209 



ARMY REMINISCENCE. 

(The following, I extract from my old journal of Camp Life in 
1861, which I think may be read with interest by old soldiers now 
living, and also by the Sons of Veterans, who will soon take our 
places on Life's battle-field). 

Headquarters 17th Regiment Hi's., Vol., Infy. 
Regimental Orders. 
Camp Mather, Peoria, Illinois, May 23, 1861. 

Order No. 1. The Commandants of Compa- 
nies in which there are vacancies in the com- 
missioned officers, will parade their respective 
Companies at their quarters at 10 o'clock a. m., 
of this date, for the purpose of holding elections 
to fill said vacancies. 

Order No. 2. Until further orders, the fol- 
lowing programme for daily exercise will be ad- 
opted. 

Officers meeting — 6:30 a.m. 

Officers drill— 7:30 to 9:30 a.m. 

Non-commissioned officers not on duty, drill 
at 7:30 a.m. 

Company drill 9:30 to 11:30 a. m. 

Company drill 2 to 4 p. m. 

Dress Parade 5 p. m. 



210 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

Order No. 4. Until further orders the^Cdm^ 
mandants of each Company will cause the side 
arms of all privates under their immediate con- 
trol to be delivered up to a commissioned officer 
of each company to be held by him until actual- 
ly needed; subject to such care by the owner of 
the same as may be necessary for their preserva- 
tion in good order. 

Order No. 5. Hereafter, no spirituous liquors 
shall be introduced into camp by any person or 
persons whatsoever, except by or under the direc- 
tion of the assistant Surgeon and all sentinels up- 
on post are hereby strictly enjoined to use great 
diligence in preventing the violation of the fore- 
going order. 

Order No. 6. There shall be four roll calls a 
day as follows: 

1st. Reveille will be made on the company 
parade by the Orderly sergeants under the super- 
vision of a commissioned officer of the company. 
Upon the drums being beat the men will fall in 
in two ranks without regard to height, facing to 
the front; the music having ceased to beat, the 
Orderly sergeant will call the roll and report to his 
officer all absentees. Immediately after Reveille, 
the men will, under the direction of the chiefs of 
their squads, proceed to put their tents and quar- 
ters in order, and the Guard house by the guard 
or prisoners. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 21i 

2nd. Breakfast call will beat at 7 a. m. 

3rd. Dinner call will be beat and the roll will 
be called at the time prescribed in Regimental 
orders, the men forming as above stated. 

4th. Retreat. At the first call, the men will 
fall in as above stated, and upon the proper or- 
der being given, will stand at rest until the mu- 
sic shall cease, when the roll will be called by the 
Orderly sergeant officer superintending. 

5th. Tattoo. The roll will be called at Tattoo, 
also under the supervision of an officer of the 
Company. 

Order No. 7. Until further orders, the diff- 
erent calls will be beat and the roll called as fol- 
lows ; 

1st. Reveille. 5 o'clock, a. m. 

2nd. Doctor's call— 6:30, a. m. 

3rd. Breakfast call — 7 o'clock, a. m. 

4th. Call for Guard mounting, 8:45, a. m. 

5th. Drummers' call for practice, 10:30, a. m. 

6th. Orderly Sergeants' call, 12, m. 

7th. Drum call, 1 o'clock, p. m. (roll call). 

8th. Drummers' call for practice, 2, p. m. 

9th. Retreat. At Sun-set. (Roll call). 

10th. Tattoo at 9 o'clock, p. m.— Taps at 9-30; 

Calls for Drill and evening Parade, as well as 
for Fatigue, will be beat at the time specified 
in Regimental order No. 2. 

By order, L. F. Ross, Col. Com'd'g. 



212 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

LAST ORDERS OF THE 17th ILLS., V< I., 

BEFORE ITS DEPARTURE FOR "DlXIE." 

Headquarters, Camp Mather, June 14th, 1861. 

Regimental Order No. 10. The following order 
will be observed and enforced by each Company 
commandandant on the 16th inst: 

Two days rations will be drawn and prepared 
by the several messes in each Company, the same 
to be cooked and prepared for transportation on 
the evening of the 16th inst. 

Dress parade will take place on the 16th inst. 
at 5 o'clock, p. m. 

Reveille will be beat at 4 a. m. on 17th inst. 

Breakfast at 5 a. m. on the 17th inst. 

The baggage and camp equipage will be pack- 
ed ready for transportation at 7:30 a. m. 

The Regiment, accompanied by music, will 
leave the Camp at 8:30 a. m. 

Embarkation on Steamboats: Sam Gaty and 
LaSalle, at Peoria wharf at 9:30 a. m. 

Company commandants will detail a Sergeant 
and file of men to be stationed under command 
of a commissioned officer on boats at the Com- 
pany quarters, to superintend the baggage of each 
Company. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 



213 



No arrangements for cooking other than pre- 
paring coffee will be furnished on the Boats. 

The usual routine of Guard duty, under the 
supervision of the officer of the Day and officer 
of the Guard, will be strictly observed on board 
of the Boats. 

By order of 

Leonard F. Ross, 
(Col. commanding 17th Reg. Ills., V. I. 




CENTENNIAL GREETING. 

(First published in Crete, Nebraska, January 1st, 1876). 

To the bright and sunny South-land, 

Where the queen of beauty walks ; 
To the Valleys and the Mountains, 

And to the Northern Lakes, 
To Pacific's Golden Gate-way, 

To the Eastern coast of Maine ; 
With a happy New Year's Greeting, 

We come to you again. 

To greet the American people, 

Of all ages — great and small, 
From the youngest in the family, 

To the father of them all. 
'Tis a big page in our history, 

For the outside world to read, 
Of the many grand projections 

We've achieved with lightning speed ; 

While Earthquakes and Revolutions 

Have sank some countries down, 
This great American Nation 

Still proudly marches on ; 
And this whole united people — 

Ever at work or on the way, 
Have carried on their business, 

And kept the World at bay ! 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 215 

That glad day was just dawning — 

That set the hills aglow, 
Proclaiming our Independence — 

One Hundred Years ago ! 
Now, our sails they whiten every sea, 

With the Starry Flag unfurled ; 
And our Country it is honored 

Throughout the entire world. 

One glance at proud America — 

(0, we love to write the name), 
Is enough to make our school-boys 

Climb up the steps of Fame ; 
For the road to Honor's Temple 

Is nowhere so easy trod — 
As it is in Free America, 

Upon her sacred sod. 

From the green hills of New England, 

To where Pacific's breakers roar, — 
From the coast of grim Alaska, 

Clear down to our Southern shore — 
We humbly thank our Great Creator, 

That our country is at peace — 
And the old American Eagle 

Proudly soars o'er all the space. 

Out upon the mighty ocean, 

And on every foreign strand, 
There is a strong impression that 

Our Flag's upheld by God's own hand ; 
And w T e, as true Americans, 

Should pray to Israel's God, 
That no other Flag but ours shall ever 

Find a foot-hold on our sod. 

We are Republican to the centre, — 

Always vote the Union "Straight," 
For that we think, is the safest Ticket, 

To carry us through the "Narrow Gate;" 



216 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

And if there are any favors shown, 
Up in that World of Light, — 

We believe the old "Army of the Union" 
Will be formed upon the "Right." 



With the misty curtain rising — 

Rising up from memory's shore, 
Comes the echo of familiar foot-steps, 

Rising high above the roar, — 
With the bright blue sky above us — 

With our feet upon the span 
That binds the ever-present 

With the Past and Future-land : — 
Comes the feeling in our bosom, 

Comes the mist into our eyes, 
As we watch the scenes receding, 

With the year that backward flies. 

Dear readers : while cherished memories, 

Are clustering 'round us here, 
Let us form new resolutions, 

For a better life, this year. 
Let us all be known hereafter 

For the Good that we can do : 
And scatter joy and gladness 

Wherever we may go ; 
And though storms may toss and rock us 

From morning until night — 
Let us fight Life's fitful battles, 

On the side of Truth and Right. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 217 

FOURTH OF JULY IN AMERICA. 

(For the benefit of all who dwell Between the Tides). 

Friendly Reader, I do not care where you 
may have lived, where you now live, or where you 
may live in future, but I do wish to impress up- 
on your mind the fact, that I consider the Am- 
erican Fourth of July the biggest day on top of 
this continent "by a large and constantly- increas- 
ing majority." 

Only one hundred and ten years ago, the Am- 
erican colonies declared their independence of 
Great Britain, and maintained their Independ- 
ence after seven years of bloody war. Since that 
period, the progress of the United States has been 
so great and so rapid as to claim the attention 
and win the admiration of the entire World. 

Step by step "Uncle Sam" has marched for- 
ward, carrying the Star Spangled Banner from 
the Eastern coast of Maine, to the white sands 
that strew the shores of the great Pacific, and to- 
day the United States of America is acknowl- 
edged as the grandest and most powerful nation 
on the globe — its millions of people enjoying lib- 
erties, advantages and blessings enjoyed by the 
inhabitants of no other country. Let us ever re- 
member the cost of this grand structure of Lib- 
erty, and train our children to cherish with affec- 
tion, and guard with zealous care the priceless 
boon of Freedom bestowed upon us by the fore- 
fathers of this Republic — the noble men who 
fought, bled and died in "the da}^s of 76." 



218 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

As I previously remarked: the Fourth of July 
is the biggest day on the American continent by 
several tons; at least such is the impression that 
I received when a boy — and I think so yet. 

Take away all other luxuries , but give me the 
good old-fashioned Fourth of July once a year, 
with its old-time patriotic purity and enthusias- 
tic double-geared jubil-jolliflcation characteristics 
or give me — a rest. The Fourth of July is t h e 
birth-day of American Liberty, and do not forget 
to remember the circumstance. 

When the glorious Fourth comes around, let 
the bells ring out over all this land of ours. Fling 
the Starry Banner to the breeze. Turn your boys 
loose and let them shout until they are hoarse. 

Let everybody celebrate. If you cannot go to 
town and join the big procession, celebrate the 
day at home. Let the songs of patriotism go up 
from every valley, plain, and mountain-top from 
the sands of the Pacific to the blue waters of the 
Atlantic — from the shores of grim Alaska to the 
gulf of Mexico. Sing the 'Star Spangled Banner,' 
"Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia" — and hur- 
rah for "Uncle Sam." 

Let every little outside consideration rip, ravel, 
and get loose in the shank and run down at the 
heel; but when the Fourth of July comes along, 
don't forget to rise up "sooner in the morning." 



A CHAPTER ON "MOVING." 
"half the world is on wheels." 

The following is my experience on moving, and 
I give it for the benefit of t h o s e of my readers 
who are unacquainted with the "ups and downs" 
of those individuals who have been persistent in 
their efforts to find "a better country," and who, 
as a general rule, have found that that "some- 
thing better" lay "just beyond" the goal of their 
ambition. 

As the Reader is alreadv aware, I first came to 
California in 1864 and returned in 1866; and in 
1874, with my family, I came back to California, 
and in October of the same year, went to Clinton, 
Missouri, near which place I purchased a small 
farm; but owing to the appearance of innumera- 
ble grasshoppers, I became discouraged and in 
the Summer of 1875, I got the opportunity of 
exchanging my real estate for a printing office, 



220 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

which was located in Fayette, Howard county 
(Mo). This office had been closed on a chattel 
mortgage, and one of the conditions of the trade 
was, that I was to get possession of the office as 
it stood, in Fayette, and put it into operation in 
that town or take it away as I saw fit. 

With my family I went to Fayette, got posses- 
sion of the office, and then interviewed the peo- 
ple of the town in regard to the proper course to 
pursue, and I soon found that the majority were 
decidedly opposed to the office being removed, 
and promised me ample support if I would stay 
and not meddle too much in politics. 

I found Fayette to be a wealthy town of nearly 
3,000 inhabitants and the county seat of Howard 
county, and contained a fine University — large 
Tobacco manufactories, and was surrounded by 
a fertile country, and very thickly settled with a 
class of wealthy farmers, who devoted their time 
to raising tobacco, grain and stock. I would glad- 
ly have settled there, but the scars of the Great 
Civil War were so apparent upon every hand, 
I felt satisfied that I would be placing myself in 
a very embarrassing position to remain. 

As this is about the last chapter in my Book, 
I will particularize a little. When I came to Fay- 
ette, I left my household effects at the railroad 
depot in Clinton, with instructions to hold them 
subject to my order; and to show just how an 111- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 221 

inoisan could scarcely realize what was the mat- 
ter with him in old Missouri, I will give an il- 
lustration by telling the truth as follows: In the 
first place the man who had been closed out on 
the mortgage was a six footer, wore a long-tailed 
black frock coat and a plug hat, and he also ap- 
peared to regard my purchase of the office as an 
infringement on his rights; and to say the least, 
it seemed an embarrassing position for me. 
(For convenience sake I will call the former own- 
er of the printing office by the familiar name of 
Smith (but it was not Smith by any means). 
After more talk with the citizens, I concluded to 
revive the newspaper in Fayette; and I accord- 
ingly went to the depot and sent a dispatch to 
Clinton, saying: "Send my household goods on 
first train." Alas! how often we act in too great- 
haste, for as I passed the building in which my 
material was stored, I beheld my predecessor- 
Smith, standing at the foot of the stairs; and it 
only took him about two minutes to convince me 
that it would be decidedly unwise for me to put 
his old machinery into operation. Smith was in 
a bad humor and I do not blame him much for 
being so. I began to reflect. I was a stranger in 
Missouri, and liable to be "taken in out of the 
gloaming;" and I again repaired to the depot and 
sent a second dispatch, reading: "Don't ship my 



222 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

goods until further orders;" and then, while re- 
tracing my steps, a corner grocer hailed me and 
said: "Mr., I understand that you are going to 
start up Smith's old paper. I am glad of it; and 
although we may not agree on politics, if you can 
run a newspaper, all right, and we won't quarrel, 
and by the way, if you are inclined to have the 
"shakes," I've got some of the best old ague med- 
icine in the back-room that you ever put under 
your nozzle. Stranger, come in." 

Reader, don't be hard on "yours truly." I was 
nearly scared to death. I walked into his back- 
room as weak as an infant. I came out feeling 
seven times bigger than Goliath and four times 
as stout as Samson; and about ten minutes after 
that, I made a grand rush for the depot, and sent 
out dispatch No. 3, saying "Bring on my goods, 
bring 'em in a hurry and don't monkey around 
in regard to incidental expenses. My family are 
here and we are very anxious to get to housekeep- 
ing," and then I sauntered up to town, and be- 
gan to inquire for Smith. I found the gentleman 
engaged in the apparently pleasant pastime of 
trying to hold up the side of a tobacco warehouse 
size 44 by 60 feet. I cautiously approached, and 
intimated that I was a representative from Illin- 
ois, California and all way stations — and under- 
stood that he was "looking for me." I also gent- 
ly reminded him of the fact that I was a distant 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 223 

relative of an individual who had passed the sun- 
ny years of his childhood in "Posey county.' ' In 
answer, Smith informed me that owing to his hav- 
ing a contract to hold up that tobacco warehouse 
for an hour or so, it would be extremely difficult 
for him to see me before morning. Acting upon 
the impulse of the moment, I went back to the 
depot, and sent another dispatch which read as 
follows: "Mr. Operator, don't send anything. 
Don 't do anything. Don't let anything whatever 
pass over your road until you hear from me." 

Upon returning to the central part of town, I 
met one of the influential citizens of the place, 
and he advised me to remain in Fayette, prom- 
ising me his assistance. My next move was to 
the depot, where I sent another dispatch which 
read about as follows: "Agent at Clinton, send 
my stuff right along. Send everything you can 
get your hands on. Send everybody here who 
wishes to settle in a live town, for things will be 
booming here inside of ten days — and after you 
send everything else — send your hill." (You see 
that I was getting a little excited). Once more I 
went up on the busy streets, and soon met an- 
other influential citizen, and he said: "I under- 
stand that you think of reviving Smith's old pa- 
per. We would be glad to have you remain, but 
I would not advise you to dip into politics too 
deep on the start, as some of our people still feel 
a little sore over the old issues. Once more I be- 



224 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

gan to reflect on the peculiarity of my situation; 
and this time I fully made up my mind to take 
the office out of Fayette. It was then early in the 
morning, and I walked rapidly up the street. At 
the foot of the stairway leading to my office was 
Smith, and he was in a passable good humor. I 
approached him and said: "Friend Smith, the 
printing outfit upstairs is mine. I bought it in 
good faith. Let us be candid with each other. 
Let us be friends. We have no quarrel. Let us 
talk business. It would be an annoyance to you 
if I started up your old paper in this town. It 
would also annoy your friends; and to show you 
that I am disposed to act right about this matter, 
I propose to take the office out of Fayette. Help 
me do this, and I will ship it to Clinton." 

This touched the man's better nature, and he 
promised to lend a helping hand and oversee the 
packing up of the material. We shook hands, 
and I gave Smith the key and put him to work 
and I once more went to the depot and sent an- 
other dispatch to Clinton which read about as 
follows: "Gentlemen: Drop everything. Don't 
touch a bedstead, cook-stove, rocking-chair, door 
mat or wood-box that belongs to me or any other 
man until you see me, and after you see me, 
don't do anything " 

I then went out on the street and hired four- 
teen of the most powerful negroes to be found, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 225 

and put them to work under the supervision of 
friend Smith, who worked hard and faithfully to 
get everything packed up in good shape; I also 
hired one wagon and two drays to convey the 
material to the depot, and by four o'clock in the 
afternoon, my entire establishment, and my fam- 
ily, were on board the cars; but just before our 
train started, a freight train came dashing in and 
the agent came up and tapped me on the shoul- 
der and said: "A lot of household goods has just 
arrived to your address; what shall be done with 
them?" I said: "That's all right. That's perfect- 
ly right — it's more than right, and it serves me 
just right. Ship those goods back to Clinton, un- 
less you get a countermanding order by telegraph 
before I get there." As it happened, we arrived 
in Clinton without any further mishap — and on- 
ly out of pocket the paltry sum of one hundred 
and fifteen dollars, for railroad fare and freight, 
hotel bills, telegraphing, draying, manager and 
negro help — cheap enough! 

At Clinton I established the "Henry County 
News" ran it for six weeks, and no doubt would 
have added largely to the population of that coun- 
ty, by drawing upon Illinois for recruits, but just 
about that time, I received a very encouraging 
letter from a relative in Crete, Nebraska, telling 
me that Crete was situated in the geographical 
centre of the United States, and that it was more 



226 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

than highly probable that the Capitol of the XL 
S., would be located in Crete — or somewhere else, 
(I am now inclined to think it will be located at 
some other point), and if I wanted to "strike 
while the iron is hot/' to come to Crete without 
delay/' 

This sounded like business, and I closed out 
my paper in Clinton, packed my material, hired 
a whole car at a cost of one hundred and sixty 
dollars, and "lit out" for Crete at a pace that 
would have put "Maud S" in the shade by sev- 
eral lengths. 

This was in November, 1875, and the weather 
was getting decidedly chilly in that latitude. 

When we arrived in Crete we found that the 
principal part of the town was located — "on the 
map," consequently, houses were scarce and rents 
very high; but I finally secured a building that 
was all hall below and several rooms, separated 
by thin board partitions, above. I piled the off- 
ice material on the first floor and piled my fam- 
ily into the cheerless, wind-swept rooms above, 
and in this domicil we battled with the elements 
for several weeks, when more comfortable quar- 
ters were procured; and now, as I write this ar- 
ticle, I look back with a shudder, and wonder how 
we managed to survive. Winter came with cold, 
sweeping winds and blinding snow storms; and 
night after night I was compelled to keep a big 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 227 

stove red-hot, putting in the long dreary hours, 
dozing on a rude bench — only to be aroused at 
intervals by the chilly warning that it was time 
to pour in more coal. 

I hired a printer from Hastings, but after five 
weeks, his father wrote for him to come to help 
his younger brother to follow a rope that reach- 
ed from the house to the barn, to aid them in 
finding their way to feed the horses and cattle! 
I told him to go. Then I hired a printer from 
Omaha, but he soon had his ears frozen while he 
was engaged in deciphering my manuscript, in 
front of the type racks, and he returned to h is 
home on the banks of the "Big Muddy," for sur- 
gical treatment. Then I hired a Bohemian prin- 
ter (at that time nearly half the population of 
Crete were Bohemians), and with the aid of my 
Bohemian compositor, by carrying a hot brick 
in each coat pocket and wearing fur-lined buck- 
skin gloves, we managed to get out several issues 
of the paper during the winter; but when they 
did come out they looked as if they had been 
blasted by lightning and then fired from a siege 
gun charged with cold ink. That winter my off- 
ice stove consumed a car-load of coal and more 
than 150 bushels of corn — and with all this out- 
lay, we seldom got the office thoroughly warmed 
up until Spring came, but then it was too late 
to soothe my damaged temper. The other paper 



228 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

in Crete was run by a couple of good, clever men 
and it was mutually understood by all of us that 
it would be folly for both of our institutions to 
attempt to winter a second time in Crete, unless 
a coal-mine should be discovered in close prox- 
imity, or unless more land be planted to corn, 
and finally they proposed to purchase my sub- 
scription list and all my surplus material, and I 
accepted the offer, and the next week I publish- 
ed my Valedictory, of which, the following is an 
extract: 

"When this paper goes out, the days of the Crete 
Sentinel will be numbered. 

What brought us here, or why we came, mat- 
ters little — suffice to say, we are aware of the fact 
that wei are here now ! We expected to find Crete 
large enough and financially able to support two 
newspapers, and we were just egotistical enough 
to think that it would take the quint-essence of 
"Starvation Corner" to prevent our making, at 
least, a living, (and it did). 

It is unnecessary to enter into details, as to 
how we planned, worked, tugged, lived and dress- 
ed; and how we went from coal to corn, and from 
corn to corn-cobs — and still drifted shoreward — 
And the bills, how they kept coming in, and our 
money kept going out. Coal bills, corn bills, cob 
bills, rent bills, paper bills, ink bills, store bills, 
express and freight bills, following each other in 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 229 

such rapid succession that we almost expected to 
see the original old "Nebraska Bill" put in an 
appearance. 

After drawing two hundred dollars from an 
Illinois deposit and the proceeds of forty acres 
of Missouri land, and sinking it all "for the ben- 
efit of Crete/' we find ourself on the ragged edge, 
and now, as the conversation around our dining 
table has simmered down to simply: "pass the 
salt and help yourself to the mustard" we think 
it full time to suspend further operations in the 
valley of the Blue. Peerless valley, and most fitly 
named; an indigo shower could not deepen your 
financially depressed borders at this time. 

It may seem humiliating for the publisher of a 
newspaper to be compelled to suspend, through a 
lack of support from its patrons, or from lack of 
ability on the part of the publisher; but we say 
in all sincerity, that no mortal man ever stepped 
from the tripod of a village newspaper office with 
feelings of more heart-felt happiness at the pros- 
pects of an early departure from the field of his 
recent labors, than we do to-day. Many a better 
man than the writer, and with far brighter hopes 
and prospects for a brilliant future than ever flit- 
ted through his brain, has been forced to yield to 
the adversities and perplexities that so often fig- 
ure in the great drama of Life. 



230 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

We go from your midst, encouraged with the 
thought that we did the best we could, and we 
leave Saline county, we hope, in no worse condi- 
tion financially, than it was when we first land- 
ed upon its virgin soil ; and it is our earnest hope 
that the lowering clouds of your financial depres- 
sion will soon be wafted from these plains by the 
healing breezes of returning prosperity, and in 
the after while, when our work is done, we hope 
to meet you (Bohemians and all) in a better coun- 
try than Nebraska, where grasshoppers are never 
seen, and where the voice of the hurricane is nev- 
er heard — where droughts and floods never come, 
and where Nebraska farmers won't be bothered 
with lightning-rod peddlars, and where business 
men who never advertise are unknown. There is 
where I hope to meet you. And while your pil- 
grimage is extended in this Vale of affliction, may 
your flocks and your herds increase, and may 
your good deeds increase more than all else, and 
while we hope that our feet will soon press the 
soil of another land, although we may look back 
and shudder at the recollections of the cold win- 
ters of Nebraska, we shall ever cherish a kindly 
feeling for the many warm friends we found in 
Crete;' 

The year of 1876 was probably one of the hard- 
est years experienced by Nebraska farmers. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 231 

From Crete I removed to Lincoln, the Capit- 
al of Nebraska, where I opened a Job Printing 
office, but soon found that I had struck that city 
in the wrong time, for the grasshoppers were al- 
ready beginning their march of destruction — go- 
ing through the State, leaving devastated fields 
and desolation behind. Business of all kinds was 
depressed and property of every description was 
to be had "almost for the asking." Within three 
blocks of the business centre, and of the Capitol 
building, at that time, I was offered nice homes 
at prices ranging from five hundred to one thous- 
and dollars! Everybody was discouraged; all the 
main roads leading from all parts of Nebraska to 
the Missouri river, were crowded with the cover- 
ed wagons of the settlers of Nebraska, going East 
— fleeing from their homes ! Then was the time I 
should have remained. But everybody else want- 
ed to get out of Nebraska, and I concluded that I 
wanted to go too — and I went. "Went where?" 
(I imagine I hear the reader asking). Why, back 
to California, of course! I sold my presses, pack- 
ed up the balance of my printing material, load- 
ed everything on board the cars (including my 
family), and one pleasant evening in September, 
1876, found us in Omaha, ready to try the real- 
ities of Life once more iri the Far West. 

This time I had an idea that I would like San 
Diego, but while in San Francisco I did not find 



232 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

a man that had been to San Diego, who express- 
ed a desire to return; but as I wished to look at 
least, at a portion of Southern California, we took 
a Steamer for Ventura, the county seat of Ventu- 
ra county, about 450 miles South of San Francis- 
co, leaving orders with the agent of the C. P. R. 
R., to ship my goods to Ventura upon their ar- 
rival from the East, as I had no idea of return- 
ing. 

We arrived at Ventura in due season, found it 
to be a very nice little town, but unfortunately 
(as I then thought), a second newspaper had re- 
cently been established, and consequently there 
was no field for me in that direction, and I have 
since been glad that such was the case. I also 
found at that time (I do not know how it is now) 
that house rents were too high for common sense 
reasoning; building material of all kinds was al- 
so very high and stove-wood was selling at from 
ten to twelve dollars per cord. The little valley 
in which Ventura is situated seemed to be of a 
very fertile character, but to the writer, coming 
from the broad prairies of Nebraska, there did 
not seem to be enough tillable land in the whole 
valley to make more than two or three ordinary 
sized farms; but I have been told that Ventura 
county is well adapted to stock-raising — also pro- 
ducing large quantities of honey and coal oil — 
but of course I can't help that. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 233 

We remained in Ventura about ten days, and 
learning, from apparently reliable sources, that 
lumber, rents and fuel "got higher" the farther 
South one went, I made up my mind to take the 
"back track/' and accordingly I wrote a letter to 
the freight agent in San Francisco, telling him 
to hold my goods until further orders, and then 
I wrote a letter to my brother in Illinois, telling 
him that we had arrived safely, and all were well. 
By a strange freak of luck, I put the letter for my 
brother in the envelope addressed to the freight 
agent, and vice versa, and sent them off! My 
brother received his letter some ten days after- 
wards, but apparently did not clearly understand 
what business he had with a San Francisco freight 
office. The agent also received his letter, and sup- 
posing from its contents that "everything was 
lovely," sent my entire outfit down to Ventura 
by the first Steamer. (For one time at least, the 
Railroad Company acted with an alacrity that 
was truly surprising), and that little mistake of 
mine cost me nearly one hundred dollars. Again 
I solemnly aver that, "such is Life." But I must 
hurry up. We returned to San Francisco, went 
from there to Petaluma and opened a Job Print- 
ing office, but at that time the diphtheria was ra- 
ging there in an epidemic form. I remained only 
about four weeks, and then went to Clove rdale, 



234 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

at which place I established a newspaper, and ac- 
tually remained there until the following Spring, 
1877, when I again sold out and with my family 
went back to Lincoln, Nebraska! Here I remain- 
ed until the following Spring, 1878, when I trad- 
ed another farm for a printing outfit and moved 
it to Seward, the county seat of Seward county, 
(Neb). At this place I continued in the newspa- 
per busines until some time in June, 1879, when 
I sold out to Mr. Jas.-H. Betzer, who changed the 
name of the paper from the Seward county Ad- 
vocate to that of the Blue Valley Blade. My suc- 
cessor, Mr. Betzer, besides being a perfect gentle- 
man in every respect, proved to be a most excel- 
lent newspaper man, and at this writing, the Blade 
under his excellent management, still waves, and 
is recognized as one of the best local papers pub- 
lished in Nebraska. 

In September, 1879, with my family, I again 
returned to California, and soon after my 
arrival on the Pacific coast, I went up to Clover- 
dale and purchased my old "paper mill," and ran 
it until the next Summer, 1880, when I again 
sold out and went back to — where ? Why to Lin- 
coln, Nebraska, as a matter of course. (It looks 
as if we are making this track rather hot). 

This move (so we all said) was to be our last 
move; (and it did come very near letting us out) 
but the winter of 1880-'81 was one of the sever- 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 235 

est on record. It seemed as if the very elements 
were fixed for our arrival. 

That winter, I commenced to keep a record of 
the separate snow-storms of the season, but after 
I counted up to 67, 1 got angry, scratched out my 
journal entries and said: "Just let 'er snow." 

It commenced getting cool in September, and 
in October it got to be decidedly cold, and kept 
increasing speed in the direction of the North 
pole, until sometime in February, 1881, it got so 
intensely cold that it was extremely dangerous for 
a "well disposed" man to say, "good morning" to 
his next door neighbor, for fear he would think 
he was trying to freeze him out, I think during 
that winter, from November first, 1880 to Feb- 
ruary 15th, 1881, the mercury indicated an av- 
erage temperature of 20 degrees below "Ca^ro!" 
It was not an uncommon occurrence during that 
winter for passenger trains to get "stuck" in the 
snow-drifts and be compelled to remain all night 
within two miles of the city of Lincoln — a city 
at that time of twenty thousand inhabitants and 
five Railroads ! I stood it all very well (for I had 
come to stay) until one morning, when I arose at 
an early hour (in order to keep from freezing in 
my little bed), but alas ! during the night a heavy 
sleet had fallen, and the ground was covered with 
ice of an exceedingly slick quality. Our dwelling 
occupied a high piece of ground, sloping abrupt- 



236 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ly to the West. I opened the West door and step- 
ped out to "view the landscape o'er, "when sud- 
denly, my feet made a wild kick at something or 
other overhead, although I cannot tell to this day 
what I was aiming at; my head struck the edge 
of the porch floor, breaking off about forty cents 
worth of pine lumber, and then I commenced "go- 
ing down hill" on a little coasting expedition of 
my own getting up, and never stopped until I 
had forced myself about half-way through an Os- 
age orange hedge fence at the foot of the slope. 
I was not very badly hurt? Oh no! I was able to 
go right to work — that is, I was able to go right to 
work in about two months after this sad calami- 
ty, and then I went to work packing up for Califor- 
nia ! I had enough of Nebraska for the time be- 
ing. (Reader, do not let this little circumstance 
worry you). 

I think it was about the 10th of April, 1881, 
when I packed up for my last move to California; 
and among other things, I shipped a large outfit 
of printing material, which, together with the 
principal portion of my household goods and ef- 
fects, reached the Union Pacific Freight Depot at 
Ogden, Utah, in time to be consumed in the big 
fire that occurred there about the 6th of May, 
whereby the depot, freight buildings with their 
contents, together with about forty loaded cars 
and much other valuable property was entirely 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 237 

destroyed. But I knew nothing of this calamity 
in which I was deeply interested, until several 
weeks afterwards, and in blissful ignorance, I 
roved over a large portion of California seeking 
for a location in which to establish a newspaper 
Avhen my expected material should arrive. Injus- 
tice to the Union Pacific Railroad Company, I 
am pleased to say, the Company paid me a fair 
equivalent for the loss I sustained by the fire. 

This last (so far) trip proved an unlucky one 
for me. Heretofore in all my journeys with my 
family, to and from California, I had been very 
fortunate in getting my children through without 
haying to pay any fare for them, but this time 
the fates were evidently against me, for at Om- 
aha, when I went to the office to procure tickets 
for the journey, the size of my children, who 
were standing uncomfortably near, gave my case 
away, and I was ''persuaded" to invest in four 
tickets instead of two ! But of course, this is all 
between you and me, and I was not particularly 
caring for expenses, for I was u going to Califor- 
nia to stay." 

After reaching San Francisco, I spent several 
weeks looking for a suitable place to locate, vis- 
iting Sacramento, Vallejo, Dixon, Auburn, Vac- 
aville, Nevada City and several other places, but 
finding these fields fully occupied, I returned to 
San Francisco, where I had left my family, and 



238 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

then I commenced a vigorous search through all 
the Directories I could find, and then I fell back 
on the real estate offices — and that is just what 
saved me. I was referred to the "flourishing town 
of Saratoga," in Santa Clara county, where, my 
informant said, there was no newspaper, but he 
said there ought to be one, and if I concluded to 
go, he felt satisfied that I would do well. 

I returned to the hotel and told my wife that 
our wanderings were nearly over, for I had dis- 
covered a veritable "bonanza," and that bonanza 
lay hidden in the village of Saratoga! 

Filled with an enthusiasm that knew no bounds 
I boarded a train on the Southern Pacific Rail- 
road and was soon flying in the direction of the 
town that needed a newspaper, and in less than 
three hours I stopped off at a little station called 
Los Gatos, and was informed that I was then 
within about three miles of the town of Saratoga. 
It was then nearly noon, and besides being very 
hungry, I was just about half "doubled up" with 
a severe attack of cramp colic. By the way, 
Reader, were you ever afflicted with the colic? 
If not, it is not your sympathy I am seeking. I 
first went to a hotel (the Coleman House), situ- 
ated dX the East end of the main (and the only) 
street, got my dinner, and then I told the pro- 
prietor that I w i s h e d to go to Saratoga, as I 
thought of establishing a newspaper at that place. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 239 

The proprietor, Mr. Coleman, told me that of the 
two places, he should prefer Los Gatos, as Sara- 
toga was only a small, quiet villageVith no rail- 
road. 

"Why," said he, "a Mr. Kelly is stopping here, 
and he can tell you all about Saratoga; he was 
over there yesterday, and I will call him in, if 
you would care to consult him." I told him to 
bring in Mr. Kelly. This gentleman soon came 
into the bar-room, when the following conversa- 
tion [almost verbatim] ensued. I said: "Have you 
been in Saratogo, and if so, what do you think of 
the town? Mr. Kelley said: "Yes, I have been 
there, came from there yesterday; I was all over 
the place and was retracing my steps to the liv- 
ery stable, when a small but viciously inclined 
dog ran up behind me and commenced snapping 
at my heels. A boy came out of a house and be- 
gan calling the animal off; but I said, let him a- 
lone, for I want to carry the news back to my 
home that I did find one object in Saratoga that 
had some life in it" 

Kelley's narrative done the business. Saratoga 
lost a paper and Los Gatos gained one, as T soon 
established the Los Gatos Weekly News, which I 
conducted until March, 1885, when I sold the es- 
tablishment to Messrs. Trantham, Webster and 
Suydam, it being under their excellent manage- 
ment at this writing. 



240 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

During the past five years, Los Gatos has in- 
creased wonderfully in population, wealth, and 
industries, and is recognized as a place of con- 
siderable importance; and I take pleasure in say- 
ing, that the once sleepy old town of Saratoga 
has awakened from her slumbers, and has fallen 
in with the march of progression, with prospects 
of a Railroad to be completed the present year. 

This ends my chapter on moving so far as the 
writer is concerned, and it is not likely that we 
will figure in as many moves in the future as in 
the past, for it is indeed a risky business, and I 
now feel more fully contented than ever before, 
to remain — at Home — for, "Our days are gliding 
swiftly by." 



CONCLUSION. 



As a great many invalids make their way to 
California with the hope of regaining health, 
it is very natural that they should feel an anxi- 
ety as to what portion of the State would be the 
most suitable to their ailments. 

This is a very delicate subject, and a very dif- 
ficult one to treat in a fair, honest, impartial and 
satisfactory manner. 

Thus far in my little work, I have endeavored 
to keep its pages free from everything that might 
be looked upon as an advertisement for any par- 
ticular locality; but for the benefit of the afflict- 
ed I will say that, for people suffering from throat 
and lung diseases, there is a great difference of 
opinion, or at least a great difference in the expres- 
sion of opinions. San Diego, Los Angeles, San- 
ta Barbara, Ventura, San Luis Obispo, Monterey, 
Los Gatos, Saratoga, San Jose, Cloverdale, Au- 
burn, and almost anywhere in the foot-hills of 
the Sierra Nevadas, and also on the slopes of the 
Santa Cruz mountains, are all highly recommen- 
ded; but all who come and settle, even in these 



242 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

highly favored and highly recommended locali- 
ties, do not receive any permanent benefit — on 
the contrary, many invalids who come to this 
coast, come, only to find a grave upon its sunny 
slopes — for "such is Life." 

I think any new country or new location, fill- 
ed with strangers, is a bad place for an invalid 
in the last stage of Consumption, for after the 
novelty of the change of location wears off, a 
large per cent of this class speedily fret them- 
selves into their graves, and generally die regret- 
ting their removal from their old homes, old 
friends and old associations. It is my honest o- 
pinion, if one can afford it, that frequent change 
of location is the best medicine for the invalid 
who is not too sick to travel. Try one location 
just so long as you feel that you are being bene- 
fited, and when this fails, seek the next best 
place. A change from the Eastern States to Cal- 
ifornia often builds up failing health, and a great 
many cases have also come under my personal 
observation where people suffering. from ill health 
have went from California to the States East of 
the Rocky mountains and were greatly benefited 
by the change. Those persons with health as the 
principal object in view, should study the alti- 
tude, temperature and atmosphere most suited 
to their cases, and this can only be done by trav- 
el and experience. Acting upon this principal, 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 243 

more than from a real desire to be constantly 
moving from place to place, the writer has battled 
with chronic ailments for many long years, and 
I am inclined to think that the climate of Los 
Gatos has treated me as well as that of any other 
place that I have tried; but I honestly believe 
that the State of Nebraska possesses a climate as 
healthy as California, but the rigorous winters 
of Nebraska is the great obstacle to encounter; 
(all people too sick to travel, should stay at home) 
but the opportunities for a man with small cap- 
ital, for making an independent living are large- 
ly in favor of Nebraska. It may seem strange for 
a Califomian to make this statement, but it is 
the Truth in a nut-shell. 

At the present time, at least, California is not 
a paradise for the poor man, especially if he comes 
with the expectation of securing a home of his 
own, from which he can glean a living. A man 
with a capital of one thousand dollars, can secure 
a small farm in Nebraska, Kansas, or Missouri 
and surround himself with the comforts of life, 
lay up money and be independent as a king, but 
as a rule, he cannot do this in California — unless 
he comes prepared to live mostly on climate. 

I send this Book out into the World, not ex- 
pecting that it will be free from errors — on the 
contrary, I expect that many of its readers will 
differ with me in regard to many things contain- 



244 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

ed therein; but that is a right that belongs to each 
and every individual, and as my opinions in re- 
gard to some things are to be found in this vol- 
ume, I will leave it for others to express their op- 
inions when, where and as they see fit; and if in 
any line I have mentioned places or persons in 
order to fill up the "waste places" in my manu- 
script, indulging in a feeble attempt at pleasant- 
ry, that may seem as having been written in an 
unfriendly spirit, I hope to be forgiven, for no 
injury or slight has been intended; and in the 
future days, I would be only too happy to grasp 
the hand of every reader of these pages, and re- 
ceive from each and every one the encouraging 
words that recognize me as a friend of humanity. 
What I have written in relation to California, 
at least so far as regards the interests of the mass- 
es who seek a home within her borders, I have 
written with a desire to create no false impress- 
ion, so that if any are induced to come here from 
anything I may have written in this book, they 
come on their own responsibility, and after com- 
ing, will, I trust, be willing to admit that I have 
promised no realization of "big expectations/' for 
the days when gold could be obtained almost for 
the trouble of merely picking it up, have passed 
away, and will never again return as they were 
in the good old days of yore; and the new Eldo- 
rado will have to be sought in other fields. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 245 

But there is another encouraging sign of future 
prosperity for California, and that is: the large 
tracts of land, so often to be found ten, years ago, 
stretching for miles, under the ownership of one 
individual, and used only for grazing purposes, 
are now being cut up, sub-divided and sold off in 
small tracts of ten, fifteen and twenty acres, suit- 
able as homes for people possessed with moder- 
ate means; and many tracts, formerly supposed 
to be worthless for anything except pasturage, 
are now covered with comfortable homes, sur- 
rounded with orchards and vineyards; and in 
this respect, for the People, California is a bet- 
ter country than it was in what has been termed 
its "palmy days;" and as a natural consequence, 
in this respect, it is growing better "as the days 
go by;" and when its people learn the lessons of 
economy, and practice them, as do our neighbors 
in the far East, California will develop into one 
of the most charming home States in this great 
Union. 

It is difficult to wean people from extravagant 
habits, and a great many "old Californians" 
seem yet too young to realize the true worth of a 
dollar, and in parting with a "twenty" they do not 
squeeze it half so hard as some of our Eastern 
neighbors squeeze a nickel ! But do not understand 
me to say that all our California brethren are 
proverbially given to extravagance in their ex- 



246 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

penditures — nor that all of our Eastern brothers 
are given to the habit of pinching off the date in 
parting with a nickel, but mention it merely as 
an illustration in comparison, and, as in either 
case, if the truth warranted the statement, no 
unpardonable sin would be committed, and no 
very great harm would result; but whether it be 
owing to climatic influence or from some other 
cause, I know not, but I am led to believe, as a 
general rule, that people grow more generous in 
their disposition and practice as they travel West; 
and this last sentence gives me a new idea, i. e. 
The fact that I have traveled West so often, ac- 
counts in a measure for my being a little too gen- 
erous in many respects ! 

I love the Western Coast. If I did not I should 
not have tried so often and so persistently to wean 
myself from the old home of my childhood, with 
all its tender recollections and cherished associa- 
tions. 

I love the Pacific Coast, with its lovely valleys, 
lofty mountain ranges, clear streams of pure cold 
water, majestic forests, grassy slopes and bloom- 
ing orchards — its sunny skies and liberal-heart- 
ed people, and would never weary listening to the 
swell and roar of the grand old ocean, whose 
crystal waters break upon its shell strewn shore. 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 247 

But while I may be in love with California, 
and grow enthusiastic over its charms and at- 
tractions, I do not wish to unsettle the mind of 
any individual to such an extent as to cause that 
individual no matter where he now lives,to change 
his home and a living for the chances of finding 
something better on the strength of anything 
I say or may have said in relation to what suits 
me. Owing to having been engaged in the news- 
paper business for many years, it has been a part 
of "my regular business" to endeavor to induce 
"all creation" to "come to the only live town in Am- 
erica," (at which place I was then stopping), but 
my newspaper days I think, are well nigh over, 
and although I am told that "the road to hell is 
paved with good resolutions," I have formed one 
resolution that T am determined will remain in- 
violate so long as I inhabit this "vale of afflic- 
tion," and that is: I will never knowingly use my 
influence to induce any one — be he native or for- 
eign born, to sell his home where he is making a 
respectable living, and change his location with 
the expectation of bettering his condition, unless 
the object be solely to regain health, and 

"Tho' storms may toss and rock, and tides may swing me in their 
ebb and flow, from this I will not be changed." 



248 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

We are all liable to make mistakes; and mis- 
takes are much easier made than corrected. If 
we are so fortunate as to possess a comfortable 
home in Republican America with all the conven- 
iences that the word home implies, it is about as 
much as we have a right to expect in this world ; 
and above all other considerations, let us bear in 
mind the unalterable fact that, "This earth is not 
our abiding place. There is a realm beyond the 
skies, where the rain-bow never fades; where the 
stars are spread out before us like the beautiful 
islands that slumber on the bosom of the mighty 
ocean, to stay in our presence forever." 

And it will also be well to bear in mind that 
riches in gold and silver alone, is not all that is 
necessary to render us happy in this life, neither 
is the accumulation of much wealth in gold and 
silver either necessary or required, to fit us for 
that better life, beyond the tides; and in our strug- 
gles after the riches of e a r t h , let us remember 
that, while the rich may occupy a higher station 
here — there are no reserved seats in Heaven, Only 
one price is charged for admission through the 
gate that opens into the New Jerusalem; and that 
admi sion fee is endorsed by Faith, Hope and 
Charity; "but the greatest of these is Charity." 



BETWEEN THE TIDES. 249 

There are none so poor as to be unable to be- 
come the possessor of a ticket that guarantees a 
"free and unobstructed right of way" over the 
bridge that spans the "river Jordan" — reaching 
from Earth to Heaven. 

I will soon close, and submit the result of my 
recent labors to the public, and hope to be able to 
recognize all the criticisms alluding to my er- 
rors (and I know there are many), with a chris- 
tian fortitude at the least, equal to any emotion 
of pleasure that I might experience from any ex- 
pression uttered in my favor. 

Reader, in perusing the pages of this Book, you 
have been my companion. You have followed me 
in my wanderings from beyond the Mississippi 
to the sands of the Pacific; but our sojourn to- 
gether as companions is well nigh over, and now, 
with one hand as it may seem, resting upon the 
ruins of the Past, and with the other, endeavor- 
ing to push aside the big gate that opens into 
the hope-bordered fields of To-morrow, Heave my 
parting injunction to you, and to my family, to 
whom this Book is dedicated: — Do not do as I 
may have done, but follow my advice, and be so- 
ber and temperate in all things. Be contented, 



250 BETWEEN THE TIDES. 

and in future, do even as I hope to do, for I yet 
hope to be able to say: 

"I live for those who love me, 

For those who know me true ; 
For the heaven that smiles above me, 

And awaits my spirit, too ; 
For the Cause that lacks Assistance, 

For the Wrongs that need Resistance, 
For the Future in the distance — 

And the Good that I can do." 

Let us be honest, faithful and earnest in our 
endeavors, and strive to do as little evil, and as 
much good as we can, as we drift "Between the 
Tides"— for, 

"Lives of good men all remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime, 
And departing, leave behind us, 

Foot-prints on the sands of Time." 

Friendly Reader: Good-bye — Farewell, and 
may God bless you. 



p4I4N^ftS, 



